Simon's Experiments II
by Alius111
Summary: Imprisoned for life, Simon must learn to cope with the new horrors that Prison Asteroid K37 has to offer. But when he learns that Hamsterviel is after his experiment, He makes a plan to escape. Sequel to Simon's Experiments. Please Review.
1. Prisoner 10100101

Alius111: I was going to wait a little longer and take a short break, but why take a break from something you like doing? Plus I couldn't resist. So without further ado I present Simon's Experiments II.

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**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lilo & Stitch.**

You know me. My name is Simon. I've done terrible things, and for those things I am imprisoned. I will not retell the deeds that have landed me in this hell hole; it is just too painful to recall. Heartache and grief now flow through my soul like blood through my body. Because of this...I'm not the same person I once was. I am now a hollow shell- a shadow...a faint reminiscent of who I used to be: a brilliant scientist and a genius. Now the only thing left of my former self is a cold and uncaring creature of hate and sorrow. I am often cruel and unkind towards anyone who comes in contact with me, but the extent of the damage does not stop there.

I can't trust my thoughts anymore. My ravaged mind plays tricks on me. I see things when there is nothing to be seen, I hear things when there is nothing to be heard. These apparitions- invented and given life by my damaged psyche have been tormenting me for quite some time now. I'm not sure for how long. I lost all sense of time a long time ago. The only thing I know is: it's getting worse. My mental health is steadily progressing in a downwards spiral. Eventually and inevitably bringing me closer to the day when I finally crack, and they have to put me down like a rabid dog. I suppose they would call it a mercy killing. Death would be a nice escape from the suffering I have endured in this place, but I doubt they would let me go so easily. They still had their uses for me, and no one escapes from prison...no one.

One year. For one year I've been chained to this place and not a day goes by that I don't wish I could go back and change the past. I've spent one year in this room; never leaving except when I am permitted to take a shower once a month. Every day of that year I have been forced to eat the same disgusting gruel. Each night I have to listen to the sound of my fellow prisoners screams. Sometimes my throat will be raw in the morning from screaming all night myself. I could almost understand why they do it. In Its own twisted way it is actually very therapeutic. But non the less my stay here has taken its toll on my body. I'm weak, skinny, and on the verge of a breakdown. Each second I spend in my cell I die a little bit more on the inside. The only thing I can hope to do is take it one agonizing day at a time...

XXXX

"So, Prisoner 10100101, do you have something for me?"

I looked up at the warden with a look of pure hatred from my spot on the cell floor. The warden looked down at me, smiling widely with his hand outstretched. Reluctantly I reached under my bed and pulled out a large rolled up blue print. Without thanking me he pulled the blue print from my hand, tucked it safely under his arm, and turned to leave.

"And what about you?" I snapped coldly. "Do you have something for me?"

I could tell by the disappointed look on his wrinkled face he was hoping I had forgotten about our little arrangement. Or perhaps he was hoping not to fill his end of the bargain. Looking aggravated, the warden rolled his eyes.

"I'll get them to ya later," He said.

In a flash I was on my feet. Growling, I advanced on the warden, flexing my sharpened claws. He backed away in fright, tightly clenching the rolled up paper under his arm as if he was afraid I might snatch it from him.

"That was not our agreement!" I yelled. "I give you the designs and I get something in return. If you won't hold up your end of the bargain than I'll have my designs back and you can tell her our contract is terminated!"

Faced with the option of confronting the Grand Council Women and telling her that he had cost her this months designs: The warden sighed and then snapped his fingers. Two armed soldiers entered my tiny cell. The taller one of the two placed a metal tray by my side while the other changed the sheets on my bed. I lifted a bowl of piping hot stew from the metal tray and began shoveling spoon fulls of stew into my watering mouth.

With a snap of his fingers, the warden dismissed the two soldiers and they exited my cell. He shot me a filthy look which I returned with enthusiasm.

"These better me good," He grumbled, referring to the blue prints tucked under his arm.

"She won't be disappointed," I replied without looking up from my stew. The sound of the door sliding shut told me I was alone in my cell once again. Sighing quietly, I stirred my stew with the spoon held in my hand. I suddenly didn't feel like eating. These feelings of anxiety often come and go; it will pass. I tried to eat more stew but I just wasn't hungry anymore. I gently placed the bowl back on the tray-careful not to spill any. I stood and began pacing around my cell.

These exchanges between the warden and I were not uncommon. They have been going on for at least five month now. The Grand Council Women had struck a deal with me a few months ago. I design weapons and new military technology for her, and in return I get certain privileges and material objects It was pathetic to give into her demands so easily, but she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I would take anything that would make my stay in prison more bearable. Finally I realized why she had kept me alive instead of giving me the death penalty. She wanted to use me. She knew about my area of expertise. She had a genius on her hands so she was gonna use him. That conniving little- I hate how easily I'm won over by her offers. However, given the circumstances I think its quite understandable...

"Yes, I'm sure selling your soul is just fine."

I turned to see an experiment about my height standing in the opposite corner. He stood their smirking while at the same time running his finger along the rim of the large hole in his stomach.

I growled. "Go away Presley, I'm not in the mood."

He laughed. "Aw, and after I came all this way just to see you. I thought you would be happy to see me-HEY is that stew?" Licking his lips, my dead brother crossed the small room and picked up the steaming hot bowl. Without permission he began wolfing down my dinner. "I gotta tell ya," He said between mouthfuls. "If it was me I'd be asking for a lot more than bad stew, clean blankets, and sheets."

"Well-your not me! Your dead!" I was annoyed now. I hate it when he just comes in here and takes whatever he wants.

"Now that hurts," He said offended. "I happen to be very sensitive about that issue."

When I saw how upset I made him I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'm sorry," I muttered unenthusiastically.

His dirt covered face broke into a wide smile. "Apology accepted." He placed the bowl back onto the tray and began pacing around my cell. I watched him circle the room for the sheer purpose of having something to do. When he had lapped the cell for the tenth time, he came to a stop in front of my bed. "Ooh, a hundred percent cotton," my brother said while running his filthy hands along my nice clean sheets.

I wasn't listening to him. My face was planted against the glass of my cell door, my hands gently rubbing my temples. Seeing my deceased brother miraculously appear from nowhere was not unheard of here. He was just another figment of my imagination. Another product of my scarred psyche. When he appears from whatever dark corner of my mind. I try not to talk to him, but he would always pester me until I finally caved. At least it was Presley this time. Sometimes at night more terrifying apparitions appear to me. These episodes did not go unnoticed. I often hear stories from the warden about how he constantly finds me talking to myself. That confirmed it: I was insane, but I was still sane enough to know it. Crazy people don't know they are crazy. So at least I have a shred of rational mind left.

Sometimes I have trouble discerning from what is real and what is not. I'm not even sure that the meeting between the warden and I that just took place actually happened. Later I would have to check under the bed to see if the blue prints were still there. Even then I still won't be sure...

When I turned around, I was happy to see that my cell was empty and there was no sign of my dead brother. Letting out a faint sigh of relief I walked over to my bed, and climbed under the warm covers. But not before I peeked under the bed. The blue prints were gone. Again I sighed in relief. Curling up in the fresh blanket, I rubbed my head against the warm pillow. The smell of cleaning detergent reminded me of when Nani would come to my room and change my sheets after the laundry was done. At the thought of home my happiness with my new sheets faded away. It was impossible for me to stay too happy in this place for long. There was always something that reminded me of home. Whether it be nice warm sheets or hallucinations of dead family members.

I know I'm getting worse. The stress I have been put through is becoming too much for me too handle. The problem is: I'm inventing most of the problems myself. Paranoia and irrational thoughts often plague my mind. I swear each day my cell gets a little bit smaller. I figure soon it will get so small that the walls will crush me to death. Right now I know it isn't true but sometimes I'm so convinced that the walls are closing in around me: I start screaming madly and start ripping up my blankets. Thankfully the walls were right where they are supposed to be. I wonder how long they will remain that way...

This is only the second day I have been back in my cell. A few weeks back I suffered a nervous breakdown. I've spent the last few months in solitary confinement undergoing electro shock therapy. After they pumped me with enough electricity to jump start New York, the medical staff deemed me healthy enough to return to my cell. It didn't matter to me. It was just going from one small room to a slightly larger one. Too bad my cell doesn't have nice padded walls like my cell in the medical wing does. Besides the anti-psychotics and the drugs that's the only thing I miss.

"LIGHTS OUT!" The warden screamed. His warning was immediately fallowed by darkness as the lights were switched off.

A faint glow came from the small lamp welded above my bed (another one of my "privileges") It provide enough light when I would have to stay up through the night, working on designs to give to the warden. I wondered what the Grand Council Women thought about my design for a new military weapon. I would probably find out tomorrow. She often arranges meetings with me to discuss my designs. Sometimes her engineers have trouble understanding what I have written down. I smiled at the thought of her pathetic excuses for scientists trying to understand my complex designs. Oh well, it wasn't their fault. As the months roll by and my mental health goes down the drain, my blue prints become more complicated and elaborate. It's gotten so bad they force me to take medication to clear my head. But they only give me the meds when I'm designing. Maybe tomorrow during our meeting I can request for more medication in exchange for more designs...It's a thought.

I rolled over in my bed, throwing the covers aside. My inmates were unusually quite tonight. The usual screams that often rang through the darkness were strangely absent. Oh well, I don't care. It just makes it that much easier to get to sleep. I reached up and switched off the light, my cell became pitch black. I yawned loudly, my voice echoed though the darkness. I closed my eyes and was asleep before I even had a chance to cover up.

XXXX

_In the distance a women screamed. I desperately ran around the darkness with my hands outstretched looking for the women. I don't who this women is and I don't know why she's screaming. The only thing I do know is: I have to help her..._

"No..."

_I ran my hand along the surface of a cold steel door...the screaming was coming from behind this door. I was so scared to look inside but I had to..._

"Help...Dad-"

_The door swung open and I stepped inside a dimly lit room. Machines and equipment surrounded me. I walked along a bloodstained floor, coming closer to the source of the screaming. In the darkness I spotted a large black experiment hunched over a pink one. His long spidery fingers were clasped tightly around her throat. She screamed louder as he wrenched the life from her body..._

"No...Mom...no-"

_Her bloodied corpse dropped dead to the floor and the large black experiment turned and faced me. Throbbing green veins snaked across his skin, spewing green liquid. Murderous green eyes pierced my soul, ripping it apart. Growling in pleasure,the experiment ran its claws over its chest, making long scratches appear on its skin..._

"I-I'm sorry...not my fault- don't-I don't want to."

_The scratches split open, growing wider and wider. What I thought was a mass of tentacles began to push its way out of the gapping wounds. Only when they started squirming towards me did I realize that the tentacles were actually arms. Hundreds of dead rotting arms all compiled and fused in one squirming pile. They twitched and slithered across the floor. Countless dead fingers reached out for me, wanting to rip me apart. As the mass drew closer I knew I had to run but I couldn't. I just stood their...terrified...I couldn't run..._

"Please...no...don't make me."

_The black experiment snarled as more and more decaying arms flowed from the slashes on his chest. Their slithering and twitching fingers were almost upon me now. I closed my eyes as the sensation of being submerged in ice cold water overtook me. I screamed in absolute terror as the frigid hands closed in around me. They swarmed and clawed at my body, ripping and tearing at my flesh. I tried to fight them off but there was too many..._

"I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm sorry..."

_I cried out in pain as one of their skeletal fingers wrenched itself under my lid and into my eye. The others fallowing its example, began ripping and tearing holes of their own in my skin. A hand forced its way in my mouth and down my throat, stifling my screams. Cold radiated from my insides as the arm clawed at my organs. Now that they had a firm and unbreakable hold on me. The mass of arms began to flow back into the black experiment, taking me along with them. I tried futilely to free myself but the arms weren't about to relinquish their prize..._

"Please no...I'm sorry."

_The squirming and twitching mass flowed back into the creatures chest and I was pulled inside along with them. The fleshy walls of the experiment's insides pressed against me, constricting my lungs, slowly squeezing the life from me. The creature purred in delight and his wounds started to close. I screamed and tried to wrench myself free from this horrible prison. But there was no escaping. Everything went dark as the scratches healed over, trapping me inside. I screamed for help but no one would come. I gave one last feeble protest as the arms began ripping me limb from limb-_

Screaming bloody murder I rolled out of my bed and landed with a painful thud on the metal floor. My heart racing in my chest, I scurried away from my bed. For one blood chilling moment I thought I felt an arm brush against my leg. Even though it was just the metal tray I brushed against; that still didn't stop me from flinging it across the room. The loud clang of metal hitting glass echoed through out my cell. On the verge of hyperventilating, I rolled into the fetal position and began sobbing uncontrollably.

I could still feel their cold dead fingers dancing across my skin. Their icy touch made real by my overly stressed mind. I looked up at my cell door which was now just a large black square and could have sworn I saw a swarm of arms clawing at the glass. The sound of fingernails scrapping against glass pierced my eardrums, bouncing along the insides of my skull.

"It's not real," I told myself as I began rocking back and forth, still sobbing quietly. I'm often plagued by nightmares but this one was the worst by far. Now I wished for the hallucination represents more than ever. I want to be free from my damaged psyche. No...what I really want is to be free of this place. My strained mental health, the nightmares, the hallucinations- everything was tied to this place. If I could just get free I know I would get better. In the year I spent in my cell I often thought about escaping. But it is impossible and I'm in no state of mind to think of any possible way to free myself from this hell.

I just couldn't think clearly anymore. When I am asleep I have horrible nightmares and when I'm awake my mind plays tricks on me. I can't take it anymore. I should just strangle myself with my bed sheets and get it over with-Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do... Shacking, I grabbed my blanket from my bed and wrapped it tightly around my neck. I had fallen over the edge now. Throwing rationality to the Devil, I started to gag as I pulled the blanket tighter and tighter. Soon I started to feel light headed and the room began to spin around me. I gave out one last rattling breath as I lurched forward and fell unconscious.

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Alius111: Well, there it is. The first chapter. Please Review. 


	2. Hit The Showers

**Chapter Two**

**Hit The Showers**

**By Alius111**

"Well, that probably wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done," Presley said, watching me from my bed.

At the sound of his voice I opened my eyes. Steadily the room came into focus. The metal tray lay discarded on the other side of the cell. Broken glass and day old stew was scattered around it. Groaning, I untangled the blanket from around my neck and began rubbing my sore throat. It's safe to say that I lost my head last night. That decision was rash and based on fear. I was lucky to come out of that situation with just a throbbing neck. I could have given myself brain damage. What was I thinking?

"I know the stew was bad but you didn't have to go try killing yourself."

I shot Presley an annoyed look. "What do you want?" I asked coldly. My voice was raspy due to my failed suicide attempt.

"Come on," He said, jumping from the bed. "Is that anyway to talk to your brother?"

"Your not my brother," I snapped. "My brother is dead."

"That's funny. I don't look dead to me."

Ignoring him, I got up and began picking up the pieces of the broken bowl. "Your not real. Your just a figment of my imagination."

Presley scoffed. "Are you saying I'm not the real Presley?"

"That's right."

"Well I am."

Now it was my turn to scoff. "Really? Then what is your favorite food?"

Presley thought it over for a second. "I don't know," He finally admitted.

"Of course you don't know!" In my frustration I threw a piece of jagged glass at Presley. It flew through the hole in his stomach and landed harmlessly on the ground. "You don't know because I don't know!" I was obviously wasting my time. Why was I even trying to reason with him? He's not real. I have a better chance of walking through the cell door than I do of convincing him that he's just a hallucination dreamed up by my head. I don't even know why I was trying. When he didn't respond I looked up to see that he had vanished from my cell...

I felt so miserable. It's sort of pathetic but I actually did kind of enjoy his company. When he was here I had someone to talk to. Maybe that's my head had invented him. To give me a companion in my loneliness. But...he wasn't real. I had no real friends anymore...not in here at least. The thing I was talking to wasn't the real Presley. The real Presley was rotting underground; probably just bones by now. This fake delusion was only what I imagined Presley would be like: Sarcastic and annoying.

Sitting on the floor, I leaned against the wall. _Look what's become of me,_ I thought. _I used to be such a normal easy going person, and now I'm talking to people who aren't really there._ I leaned forward and picked up the metal tray. My tired reflection stared up at me from it's reflective surface. I barely recognized myself. My face was taut and skinny. You could hardly tell due to the fur on my face, but I could practically feel my skin stretched over my bones. My eyes seemed dead and lifeless, like something had died deep down inside them. I didn't have to look into a mirror to know that I was skinny. My ribs stuck out like sore thumbs. If it was possible I felt even weaker than I had before. My new ragged appearance is proof of what I have been through. This tight emotionless mask is evidence of the pain and suffering I have endured in this place.

I have nothing. I have no one. It kills me to be away from my family. I haven't seen or heard from them since I was hauled away to prison. I thought Jumba or at least my father would write to me. Then again, why would they? Everyone thought I was a monster. Why would anyone want to talk to me? If anything they were probably glad that I was out of their way. I wonder if my father ever thought about me. Did he ever regret how we never spent time together when he had the chance? Or perhaps was he happy that such an embarrassment was behind bars where it belonged? I suppose it doesn't matter now. I was never going to see him or anyone else again.

I tried to lighten my mood by thinking about home and all the good times I had with my family. It seemed to have the exact opposite affect. Instead of cheering me up it just made me more depressed. Usually taking a stroll down memory lane was enough to bring me from my despair, but now the only purpose it served was to remind me of everything I had lost. I didn't have any tears to shed. The time spent in prison has hardened me and turned my heart to ice. I don't think I'll ever cry again...Maybe years from now when I'm just about to expire. I might shed a few tears for my tragic fate. But there was no use crying over something you couldn't change. I was going to die in this room. I accepted that a long time ago-

The sound of sliding glass drew my attention to the cell door. A guard stood on a hovering platform holding a bowl filled with a grey paste. Without saying anything he slid the bowl into my cell and with the push of a button the door closed. I picked up the bowl just as the guard and his hovering platform flew from sight. Using my finger I pocked at the thick mud like substance in the bowl. They were serving breakfast so it must be morning hours. Since the prison was built on an asteroid there was no day or night. So the days were worked out by a clockwork system that corresponded with the meals. When breakfast came that meant the "day" had started. Hours later when lunch arrived that meant it was middle day. Then when dinner was served that meant the day was over and lights out was approaching. When the lights were off it was the prison's artificial night. Everything shut down and the prisoner went to sleep. Once the lights were turned back on and the first meal arrived; it was a start to a new day. This endless cycle repeats itself over and over again. You could stay here for two days and learn the routine by heart. It was boring and repetitive-but hey, that's my life now.

Using my finger I scooped some of the foul smelling paste into my mouth and cringed as it slid down my throat. The gruel sort of tasted like a combination of cigarette ashes and rotten eggs. It was disgusting but you get used to it after a while. Sighing, I threw the empty bowl on the floor after forcing myself to choke down every last bite of the revolting paste. _I feel like I've eaten a rock, _I thought while holding my cramped stomach. How I've lived on this stuff for a year I'll never know.

Belching loudly, I laid down on the cold floor, massaging my stomach. "Another day in paradise," I said miserably.

XXXX

I lay on my bed staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. Any moment now the guard will be here to escort me to the showers. It's a good thing to. I was starting to smell. Once a month I'm allowed to take a shower for a maximum time of thirty minutes. In the past I had to take it with my fellow inmates but one of my privileges is I get to take showers by myself. I asked for this privilege not because I'm shy or embarrassed, but because it's too dangerous. Spending time in a large room with a group of dangerous criminals who have been locked up for God knows how long isn't exactly the smartest thing. This was proven a year ago around the time I first arrived here. A small riot broke out in the showers and my right arm was broken in the process. It healed nicely but now I have a slight case of arthritis. Sometimes it acts up when I first wake up or when I turn it too far to the right. The arthritis is a mild inconvenience that hasn't cost me any real trouble yet. But I could life without it.

A sore arm isn't the only thing I have to worry about. I still have to be wary about the one thing everyone fears when they come to prison. I'm talking of course about rape. These sort of situations are very common. Mostly taking place in the showers or when two prisoners are kept in the same cell. Fortunately due to my quick thinking and my exceptionally sharp claws, I haven't been forced into that kind of situation. God knows they've tried. I'm reminded of this specific incident that took place in the showers about two months after I arrived at prison.

One of my inmates thought he would try and "Make me his bitch" as he put it. But when he attacked me, in a effort to defend myself: I slashed him across the neck with my claws. Originally I hadn't intended to kill him, but I wasn't about to allow myself to be raped. Of course I was put on trial but I got off on self defense. It was a good thing to. If I was convicted of the murder it would have been straight to the executioner's block. I'm not exactly sure how they execute prisoners but it can't be pleasant.

Bored out of my skull, I reached under my pillow and pulled out a large bone. I ran my finger along its rough surface, coming to a stop at the end which had been sharpened to a point. I had salvaged it from one of my "special meals" a few weeks back. I'm not sure why but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Over the weeks I've scraped the edge of the bone along my bed frame, refining the end to a sharp point. I kept it as a way to pass the time but also in case I had to defend myself. Every prisoner has their own makeshift weapon and this sharpened piece of bone is mine.

After admiring my handy work, I stowed my crude self-made weapon back in its hiding place under my pillow, and not a moment too soon. Just as I had managed to hide the bone back under my pillow the guard entered my cell.

"You ready?" He asked, holding out a pair off shackles.

Giving the guard my coldest stare, I nodded and jumped off my bed. Wordlessly, I raised my hands so he could restrain them, but at the last second he pulled the shackles away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" He said looking me up and down. I gave him a confused look. "Your naked," He added, pointing out my lack of prison uniform.

"I don't wear it," I told him.

"Well, Trog, if your leaving your cell then you have to wear your uniform."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't think so."

"Look," He said obviously frustrated. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." He raised his plasma cannon and aimed it at my head. Defeated, I retrieved my uniform from under my bed and pulled on the black and grey striped shirt and pants. Muttering profanity's under my breath, I allowed the guard to hand cuff me.

As the platform began its decent to the lower levels, I began furiously scratching my sides. I hate wearing the prison uniform. It makes my fur itch. I don't see the point in wearing it. I'm just going to be taking it off again when I get into the shower. Still, it never occurred to me that they considered me naked when I'm not wearing my uniform. But the more I thought about it the more it made sense. I hardly ever wore clothes when I was growing up on Earth. However these people- no matter what species- were clothed all the time. Oh well, at least black and grey are my colors(literally).

The guard led me down a brightly lit hallway. The floors were so clean and polished I could see my reflection in them. I've made this journey to showers from my cell many times before. As always the guard stands behind me, making sure I keep walking at a steady pace. If I slow or stray in any way: I get a small shock from his stun gun. Before I was allowed to take showers on my own I was usually accompanied by at least twenty other prisoners. During this long walk, if a prisoner should walk away from the line even by the width of a hair. Then they are shot without a second thought. I know I would get the same treatment. That's why I try to walk in a straight line at all times.

When the guard used his card key in a small terminal attached to the wall: the door at the end of the hallway opened to revealed a dark passageway that seemed to stretch for miles. The door automatically closed behind us as we passed through the threshold. With a nervous cough, the guard pushed me forward. I could tell my heavily armed companion was just as disturbed as I was. No one liked going down this hallway, but it was the fastest way to get to the showers.

The walls and floor seemed to be made out of a material similar to concrete. The lights constantly flickered, temporarily plunging the passage into darkness. The only sound that could be heard was the steady dripping of water from the long rusty pipes that ran along the wall. We were in an older part of the prison. When the budget was low, instead of building a new prison they just built one on top of the old ones. From outside, Prison Asteroid K-37 looks like a solid dome, but on the inside it's an endless labyrinth of hallways and levels. Mostly the staff keeps to the higher levels of the prison. If one doesn't know their way around the endless corridors of the old prison. There's a good chance you could get lost. But fortunately I had taken this route many times before, and it was a direct route to the showers.

Finally we came to a stop in front of a narrow door at the end of the hallway. The guard turned to me and told me to strip. After I took of my uniform and handed it to the guard, he used his key card to open the door and I stepped inside the showers.

I was in a brightly lit room that could easily hold a large group of people. The white tiled walls and floor gleamed in the light, and reflected off the many shower heads that lined the walls. The room was sanitary enough but it had the feel of a place that's been re-tiled and painted to make it look fresh. Feeling uneasy, I walked under a shower head and turned the knob. I shivered as ice cold water poured from the nozzle and ran down my body. Teeth chattering, I grabbed a bar of soap from a shelf and began scrubbing my chest. Soon I was all lathery and covered in bubbles.

Simon-

My ears perked up. Nervously I looked for who had spoken. But there was no one. I was completely alone in the showers. "H-hello," I said. "Is someone there?" The sound of running water was the only thing to be heard. Gulping, I began rinsing the bubbles from my fur. My teeth were chattering harder than ever, but it had nothing to do with the icy water.

Simon-

My head jerked around, eyes frantically trying to locate the source of the voice. But there was no one. Suddenly a loud screeching made me jump. It was a horrible piercing noise like the sound of metal scraping against metal. Terrified, I backed away from the walls as every shower head came to life, spewing boiling hot water onto the floor. I was gripping the bar of soap so tight that it was turning to mush in my hands. The floor at my feet became scarlet as blood began pouring in torrents from the shower heads. Yelling, I dropped the soap and ran for the door, nearly slipping on the wet floor.

"G-Guard, let me out." I said frantically.

"What?" He said from the other side of the door.

"I-I'm done. L-let me out."

"Ah come on kid, I just lit up a smoke. You still got twenty five minutes left. Enjoy your shower, I'll even turn on the hot water if you want."

Heart racing in my chest, I turned to see the walls closing in around me. "LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" I slammed my fists on the door. I wanted out! I needed to get out of here before the walls crushed me! With each second they drew closer and closer. The space separating us grew smaller. Hundreds of voices were all whispering at once, drowning out my thoughts. The walls pressed in against me, squeezing and crushing me to death. Just as I couldn't take it no longer, I fell backwards and received a violent electric shock. For a moment I twitched and convulsed from the force of the shock. Then unable to bear it any longer, I fell unconscious.

XXXX

I awoke in my bed hours later, feeling light head and exhausted. It took me a minute to register that I was in my cell. For a moment I thought the walls were closing in on me again, but I calmed down when they remained firmly in place. I'm not sure what happened. One minute I was taking a shower and the next thing I know I'm lying in bed with a terrible burn on my back side. I inspected the wound and because of all the time I spent studying medical journals in my youth; I immediately knew it was an electrical burn- that's when it hit me. The guard hit me with his stun gun. But why would he do that? Then I remembered. I was hallucinating again. The guard must of heard me scream and thought I was hostile, so he shocked me.

Moaning, I grabbed the sides of my head. "This has got to stop!" I yelled to no one in particular.

"Your telling me." I looked up and growled when I saw Presley smiling at me. "So, hows life in the slammer?" He asked.

"Go away!" I yelled, turning away from him.

Sighing, he reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder-it was funny...I could swear I felt the warmth coming from his hand-No! It was all in my head...He's not real!

"Look," Presley muttered sadly. "I know I was a jerk to you before...but I was hoping we could put all of that behind us." He smiled and held out his hand for mine in a brotherly fashion.

I heaved a sigh of frustration but eventually I grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. I remember...the last time I held his hand was all those years ago when he died right in front of me. I looked from Presley's smiling face to the large hole in his stomach. Looking at the gapping wound that had taken my brother's life made me feel sick. I remembered how I scrubbed his blood from my fur in the showers after I left my and father with his corpse. _Why do I feel so guilty about this?_ I thought to myself. _I didn't even like Presley._

"Your cracking up bro."

A pained expression crossed over my face. It took the hallucination of my dead brother to tell me what I already know. But it was still like a cold slap in the face.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"I don't know. Your the genius. You think of something." And with that he vanished from my cell,leaving me alone once again. But for once I was truly sorry to see him go...

Suddenly my cell door opened and the warden stepped in accompanied by four heavily armed soldiers. "The Grand Council Women Has arranged a meeting with you," The warden announced. Looking stern he frowned at me. "She demands your presence **immediately**."

Before I could object or even take a breath. I was hauled off my bed and dragged onto the platform. My hands were shackled and the next thing I know, I'm descending down to the lower levels to see the Grand Council Women.

* * *

Alius111: I hope this is turning out god so far, but i'll never know unless I get feedback! Please Review. 


	3. The Devil Wears A Golden Collar

**Chapter Three **

**The Devil Wears A Golden Collar**

**By Alius111**

_They don't think I know. Oh, but I know. I know what they want. Well she's no going to get it. No, not anymore. I won't let her. She thinks she can do this to me. Well not anymore..._

I nervously glanced around the prison block, my eyes darting in every direction, trying to discern from what was there and what wasn't. I could see my fellow inmates leering at me from inside their prison cells. They made inappropriate gestures and crude comments as I passed. Some of them took the forms of horrible monsters with glowing green eyes. All of them scratching at their cells doors, trying to claw their way free. They wanted to get out. They wanted to kill me. Everyone did. I shot the warden a suspicious look as he and his guards led me down the prison block towards an elevator. What was he planning? Did he think I was stupid? Was I even really going to meet the Grand Council Women? I don't even think there is a Grand Council Women. I think there just trying to screw with my head! But I'm sharp. I can see right through them like a crystal wine glass. I have to be prepared for anything. Who knows what's running through his sick little mind.

I growled at the warden and he turned to me, looking sweaty. I kept glaring at him, never taking my sights from him. Nervously he looked away and quickened his stride. The guard nudged me in the ribs, forcing me to keep up. But still I stared at the warden. He told me to stop but I didn't. That's what he wanted me to do. Look away so when I have my back turned he can come up from behind and bash my head in. Well I'm not going to let that happen. It didn't even occur to me that my irrational thoughts might not be realistic. After that scene in the shower where the guard attacked me. I wasn't about to let that corporate sleez get the better of me again. He was trying to snuff me out. He wants me out of the picture. I can see it in his small beady little eyes. I don't know what he's planning. I'll just have to wait until he makes the first move.

The guard pushed me onto the elevator and the warden immediately fallowed after. Everyone was silent as the platform rose into the air, taking us to the higher levels. From where I was standing I could get a pretty good view of the prison block. My cell was on the very top level almost half a mile down. I hate it when I'm forced to leave my cell. I might loathe every agonizing minute I spend in there. But at least when I'm behind that impenetrable glass shield I'm completely safe. Out here I was in the open. Like a sitting duck I am. An easy target for whomever is hunting me -my eyes darted back to the warden- I wish I was back in my cell, sleeping on my nice rock hard bed with my fresh sheets. I'm sure by the time I get back (If I get back that is) the broken glass and stew will be cleaned up. Won't that be nice? Maybe Presley will be there. If he is then we send the rest of the day reminiscing over old memories of home and family-

I was suddenly wrenched from my thoughts when the elevator came to a stop. The guard began beckoning me though a doorway and down a long, brightly lit passageway. Where they taking me? I had no idea. I couldn't remember anymore. I decided just to roll with punches and see where I ended up. Apparently my destination was a long narrow door at the end of the hallway. That's when it hit me. She was there...waiting for me. I knew what she wanted. But she wasn't going to get it.

_No, no longer...Keep away from me!_

With a swipe of his key card, the warden opened the door and I was forced into a small, square shaped room with nothing but a hovering table and two large chairs furnishing it. The walls were made out of what appeared to be white steel, the light danced and shimmered of its reflective surface. Sending glassy bright lights in every direction, and already seated in one of the chairs was non other than the Grand Council Women. The person who condemned me to this damned existence. I shot her a look of pure loathing as I was seated in the opposite chair. She didn't change much from the last time I saw her. Her icy greens eyes penetrated me to my very soul; the distinctive markings on her forehead were creased and lined with anger, but still held an air of forced calm and tranquility; and held tightly in her bony fists were the blueprints I presented to the warden not two days ago.

She didn't seem too happy to see me. The feeling was mutual. I was dreading this meeting just as much as she was. Without saying anything she unrolled the blueprints, showing off my designs for a new military weapon. She coked an eyes ridge and gave me a look as if expecting me to elaborate on my designs, but when I didn't she cleared her throat and spoke:

"What is the meaning of this?" She demanded in her rough and commanding voice.

Clicking my tongue, I looked down at my designs. Scrawled across the scroll of blue paper was a series of unintelligible scribbles and jumbles of untidy doodles. A large portion of the document was dedicated to a collection of chicken scratch I couldn't even understand. But still I couldn't see the problem with my designs. They seemed just fine to me.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

Her hands tightened into fists. "Don't play games with me Trog,"

I shrugged. "I'm not. I just don't see what the problem is." Without warning she slammed her fists down on the table.

"This, this is the problem," The Grand Council Women said in a tone that didn't reflect her anger. "I will not tolerate disrespect from the likes of you Trog. This chicken scratch you have presented me with is ludicrous and a complete and utter waste of my time. It is clear to me that this sabotage was deliberate and that you feel no remorse for squandering my time. I believe, the terms of our agreement were: you will provide me with whatever I may ask of you, and in return in an act of supreme generosity on my part, I agreed to make your living situation more comfortable." By now she had ripped the blueprints to pieces and was leaning over the table, her icy green stare glaring daggers at me. I shied away from her gaze and lowered my head. "You **will **prepare new plans," She continued. "They will be ready by tomorrow and will of course be written with exquisite detail; and I expect them to meet all of my expectations and-"

"No," I said flatly.

The guards gasped and the warden looked horrified. The look of shock on the Grand Council Women's face turned to anger.

"How dare you contradict me," She said in a dangerous tone. If I didn't know better I thought she was going to leap across the table and begin wringing my neck. "You disgusting waste of flesh. You are not even worthy to stand in my presence. Now you have the gall to say no to me. When I have so generously allowed you to keep your life-"

"You can say whatever you want," I cut across. "The deal is off. You can't take your "privileges" and I'm sure you know where you can stick them."

"... Are you quite sure?" She asked, her face stretching into a thin smile. "I can make your life very unpleasant."

I laughed. It was an insane cackling sound, a noise I wouldn't have made before. "What more can you do to me? Look where I am."

The smile from her face faded and turned into a frown. Without saying anything she stood and turned her back on me. "Gentlemen," She said calmly. "Teach this Trog some respect."

Since my hands were cuffed there was nothing I could do to defend myself. In an instant the guards were upon me. I yelled as I was pulled from my chair and slammed roughly against the floor. The Grand Council Women only stood there and watched with an emotionless expression on her face as the guards beat me to a pulp. I swiped my claws through the air, slashing a guard across the leg. He swore loudly and kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me sliding along the floor and into the wall. I tried to get up but a crack to the back of the head knocked me back down. Still swearing, the guard I scratched kicked me across the face, causing blood to spray from my mouth. Just when I thought they had stopped. I cried out as the guard stomped on my back-

"Enough!" The Grand Council Women ordered. The guards immediately stopped their assault and backed away as she silently approached me. Blood trickled down the corner of my mouth, I wanted to wipe it but I couldn't moved. My whole body throbbed painfully. My left eye was so swollen I could barely see the Grand Council Women as she walked towards me, leaning on her polished black cane.

"It's a shame that such a brilliant mind was gifted to such a disgusting creature," She moved the end of her cane under my chin and forced me to look at her. "I regret it," She said coldly. The smallest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Take this abomination back to his cell, lets see if he changes his mind after he's had time to think it over." After giving me one last kick to the stomach, the guards lifted me off the floor and carried me out of the room. The last thing I remember before I fell unconscious was the icy stare of the Grand Council Women's steely green eyes.

XXXX

I awoke in my cell to a bad headache and a swollen jaw. My first thought was that someone sneaked into my cell and had beaten the hell out of me. But I soon remembered what had transpired during my so called 'meeting.' I should have expected something liked that. Being beaten until I bled really brought back memories. It was almost like being back at home. In fact I thought it was kind of funny. You'd think my body would be used to severe beatings by now. I'm surprised it hurt as much as it did. I guess I'm not used to it anymore.

I was in so much pain. Any move I made was pure agony. Every muscle in my body felt bruised. Blood was caked up on my face like dried up mask. In my weakened state I just couldn't handle injury's like I used to. I tried to get up only to fall back down whimpering like a wounded dog. A sharp pain suddenly spiked through my right arm when I tried to move it. I cried out and grabbed it with my other hand. It was my arthritis. It was acting up again. I gritted my teeth as the feeling of inflammation increased deep within my skin, causing my claws to dig into my skin.

"Ah! That hurts," I cried, a small trail of tears running down my bruised face. Instinctively I raised my arm up my mouth- causing me even more pain- and began furiously licking my fur. I don't know why I was doing it. It was an involuntary reflex. Even though the unnecessary movements of my arm only made it worse, I still continued to lick my skin like a dog does a wound. Finally I stopped licking and managed to pull myself to my feet. Still whimpering, I limped over to my bed and climbed onto the familiar rock hard mattress. I didn't even bother going under the covers. I just laid there, cradling my arm and waited for the inflammation to pass. I tried to block out the pain by going to a happier place in my mind, but the agony was too much for me think straight. My head was still groggy from the fierce beating and the unbearable pain radiating from the core of my right arm only made it worse.

After what seemed like hours the crippling spasms in my limb finally ceased. The inflammation slowly faded away leaving a tingling sensation in it's wake. I never knew arthritis could get that bad. It practically crippled me. I guess it gets worse over time if it's not treated. As much as I wanted to blame it on the person who broke my arm, I couldn't. It's my fault that I'm here in this horrible situation. I killed all those people I- No! I refuse to think about that. My life is hard enough now without the guilt, but as much as I ignored it I couldn't forget it. My hands were stained with blood, and not just with mine but with others too. It was my fault...it's always my fault.

XXXX

Hugging my knees, I sat in my lonely little corner steadily rocking back and forth. Presley stood in the opposite corner, casually picking at the charred edges of his stomach hole. He slowly peeled off the burnt skin and flicked it across the room. The pieces of skin made a dull smacking noise when it hit the metal. He was just doing it to annoy me. I cringed as he flicked another speck of skin across the room. He must know how irritating that is. Why was he doing it? Finally when I couldn't take it any longer I growled-

"Will you stop picking at that!" I shouted.

"Hey!" He said defensively. "It's my hole and I'll do whatever the hell I want with it. When YOU get a hole blown in YOUR stomach, then YOU can do whatever YOU want with it."

I growled, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I just dropped my head and continued rocking back and forth, never taking my eyes off him. I knew I couldn't close my eyes. If I did then they would come and take me. I had to always watch and be on guard. They were everywhere, so I had to always watch and listen...always listening...always watching...

XXXX

I stood in front of the large cell wall, contemplating the various scratches and markings that were chiseled into it's dull surface. To any other person these seemingly random scratches meant nothing. The tally charts, the scratches, the gashes, and even the equations I had etched in myself meant nothing. But to a minds such as mine they were something. I'm not sure what yet, but theres something there. Frantically I ran back and forth along the wall, running my hand along the metal, taking note of it's smooth texture. I rubbed my face on the cold wall, trying to see what was there. Because there IS something there, I could tell. My calculating mind looked over every mark on that wall, trying to find what was there. I'm not crazy--there is something there.

"Hey look!" I shouted to Presley who was standing right behind me. "Do you see it? I pointed to a blank space of wall just below the roof.

"Huh, see what?" He pushed past me to get a look for himself. "...There's nothing there," He finally announced after scanning the wall.

"Yes there is. These scratches, they seem to make up a picture of some sort. I-I think this place used to be a studio."

"This prison?" Presley asked confused.

"No, just this cell." I said looking back to the wall. "Look, right there. D-do you see the picture? Do you see how it kind of looks like a bunch of people jumping of a bridge.

"Uh...no," Presley said slowly backing away from me.

"Yes! It's right there!" My finger jabbed through the air, frantically pointing to the picture that wasn't really there. "Oh look. It seems to fallow a pattern." My hand slowly traced along the wall. "It's crudely drawn. No wonder they hated it so much."

"Uh...they?" Presley asked warily.

"Yes!" I shouted madly. " THEY! They hated that picture so much much they scratched the hell out of it." By now my eyes had become wide and frantic. I don't care what he thinks. I know what I see. Turning back to the wall, I began running my hands along it. Carefully, Presley approached me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Simon, I think you've gone to a bad place," He said gently coaxing me towards my bed. "What you need now is a little shut eye.

Sleep? I couldn't sleep now. If I closed my eyes than they would get me. Plus I couldn't really sleep if I wanted to. The constant stink of rotting fish kept me awake. The odor seemed to radiate from the walls and seep into the cell from under the glass door. It was so foul it prevented me from getting rest of any kind. I asked Presley if he smelled anything funny. He said he didn't. That wasn't a surprise. After all, he was dead, and dead people can't smell things. It was maddening. It clung to everything. It was in my fur, it was in my sheets. Everything stunk of fish. I had no chance of locating the source, I didn't have the energy. Even thought I couldn't stand the smell, I climbed into bed just as Presley had instructed.

"There don't you feel better?" Presley asked as he pulled the blankets up to my chin--wait no...I pulled my blankets up, Presley just stood there. But when I looked to my right he was gone. I was alone again. I was so tired, but I couldn't sleep...I couldn't close my eyes. If I did then they would come...they always came but only when the lights were turned off. Still, I didn't want to risk it. I was still very sore from the beating. If they came I wouldn't be able to defend myself. My hand slipped under my pillow and gripped the sharpened piece of bone. It would do me now good. I was too weak and needed sleep. Maybe if I just closed me eyes for a second--just to rest them of course. Sighing, I closed my eyes and slowly my body went lax. A second turned to a minute and a minute turned to hours. Soon enough I was unable to open my eyes. I let out a gentle sigh and let sleep take me...

_Crazy? I'm not crazy..._

XXXX

Breakfast was due to arrive any minute now. I could wait. I was feeling much better now, much calmer. I don't know what came over me...I haven't had these feelings of paranoia or disorganized and eccentric thinking since I returned to my cell. I was concerned...this was just how it started last time-- before I had my breakdown. It started with paranoid thoughts and eccentric behavior that steadily got worse over short periods of time. Eventually I just snapped and the warden had me committed. I spent a few months in solitary confinement with my jacket on backwards. After months of pills, drugs, and electro shock therapy (Which is a procedure not only practiced on Earth) They thought I was healthy enough to go back to my cell. The prestigious medical staff of Prison Asteroid K-37 thought I would get better on my own. Idiots, what the hell do they know. I obviously wasn't getting any better. The doctors said I had case of Psychosis brought on by sever psychological stress.

_I don't need them. I could've diagnosed myself. I'm smarter than anyone on this rock._

The guard arrived with breakfast fifteen minutes later. It was the same disgusting gruel they served everyday. Today I couldn't even stomach it so I just threw the bowl across the room. I don't care that it shattered against the wall, spilling it's curdled grey contents all over the floor. They would have to clean it up not me.

I yawned loudly and tried to get more rest but sleep wouldn't come. My mind eventually wandered back to my meeting with the Grand Council Women. I wasn't hurting anymore and the swelling had gone down but my eyes were still blackened. I still can't believe I ended our agreement. _I wonder what the consequences of that will be_, I thought. I don't even know what brought it on. I guess I was sick of taking her orders and being treated like I was dirt. She seemed angered by my decision but she took it better than I expected. I could've thought it was all over and I would never have to stare at her face again, but something she said kept nagging at me...

"_lets see if he changes his mind after he's had time to think it over."_

What did that mean? It sounded like she was threatening me. I wasn't afraid of her. She can do whatever she wants. I'm not going to break. There's nothing she can do to make my life any worse than it already is. She can try...but I'm not going to let her use me. I've already turned over some of my brightest designs over to her...and for what? I disgust myself. I played right into her hands. The Grand Council Women only kept me alive so she could use me. Now that I'm no longer helping her, what's she gonna do? Kill me? Personally, I could care less. When your going to spend the rest of your life in a cell the size of a shoe box: you'd be surprised how little death matters. If anything it would be more of a release than a punishment. At least I would get to be with my Mother. The rest of my family would join me sooner or latter...It almost sounded nice. Too bad I'm not going to die anytime soon. Like I said: behind this impenetrable glass shield I'm completely safe--

"Hands on the wall!"

My head shot up to see two guards entering my cell, their plasma cannons pointed to were I was lying. The nest thing I know: I was forced against the wall with my left arm bent behind my back.

"What's going on?" I asked the guard who was subduing me.

"The prison block has become too crowded. Your getting a new cell mate."

* * *

Alius111: Well, there it is. The next chapter. Sorry about taking so long to update. I've been busy. This doesn't feel like my best work but I let you be the judge of that. Please Review.

Oh ya, there was a glitch in my computer that stopped any email from this site to be blocked but I've fixed it now.


	4. A New Cell Mate And The Good Doctor

**Chapter Four**

**A New Cell Mate And The Good Doctor**

**By Alius111**

The moment the guard uttered the word cell mate;everything began moving so fast I could barely comprehend what was happening. Since I was pushed against the wall, I had no idea what was going on behind me. I could hear shouts and swears along with the unmistakable sound of a large bulk being dragged across the floor. When I tried to look, the guard twisted my arm further up my back causing me to wince in pain. A loud banging sounded directly behind my head. I cringed.

_What is going on back there? _I thought while trying to wrestle my arm free from the guards vice like grip.

Finally after the jingle of shackles being removed signaled the end of the struggle; the guard released my arm but told me to continue facing the wall until he left. At the sound of the cell closing, I turned around and faced my new cell mate...

I have spent one year in this prison, and in that year I have seen some very strange things. But what I saw sulking in the corner was the most bizarre thing I've seen thus far. When I first laid eyes on my cell mate I thought I was looking at a thick yellow stick wrapped in a prison uniform. He was tall with mustard yellow skin. His head was oval shaped and lined with sharp spikes. Two long spidery stalks which were bent at awkward angles jutted out his sides and rested firmly on the ground. I guess these were supposed to be his legs. But his most distinguishing feature was his face. That was just it, he didn't have one. The only thing that could possibly be associated with a face were two bulbous black eyes that constantly swiveled and twitched, darting around the room madly. I was so shocked and repulsed I could only stand there, gawking at him with a vacant expression on my face. He was so skinny. I bet if I wanted to I could break him in half like a stick.

His eyes suddenly ceased twitching and rested on me. I don't know why...but I felt afraid. Well, I have good reason to be. I'll probably be spending the rest of my days in the company of this hideous creature. Also, I couldn't put my finger on it but...there was something unsettling about him, and not just his abnormal appearance. He still hadn't stopped staring at me. Bulbous black eyes looked me up and down, taking in my every feature with disturbing precision. It made me feel...uneasy.

Coughing nervously, I looked away from my unnamed cell mate and stared through the transparent cell door to the other side of the prison block. Even though I wasn't looking directly at him, I could still feel his stare boring into my side. What is his problem? Why won't he stop staring at me. I wanted to shout at him, but this feeling of unease kept me quit. Something in my gut told me to shut up and keep looking forward. Still, I couldn't ignore it. He hasn't moved since he got here. I haven't even heard him take a breath. As much as I fought it, I couldn't stop the maelstrom of paranoid thoughts that were raging inside my head.

This is so strange. All the time I've been here and I've never had a cell mate. Why now all of a sudden? The Grand council women suddenly came to mind—of course! This had to be her doing. The prison block is too crowded? That guard had been lying through his teeth. Ever since the Leroy clones died out this place has had an abundance of vacancy's. The prison is like a bad motel that nobody wanted to stay at. There was plenty of space. I knew what she was doing. This is what she meant by time to think it over. She was trying to scare me into cooperating with her. She thinks she can intimidate me by forcing me out of my seclusion and into the company of dangerous criminals.It was a sad attempt. It's going to take much more than a weird looking alien to scare me into working with her.

"I get bed," A gravely voice said.

"Huh," I looked up to see my cell mate standing beside me, flexing his sharp looking claws. Before I could object he grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me across the room. After spinning through the air for a fraction of a second I landed with loud thud on the hard floor. By the time I righted myself, he had already made himself comfortable in my bed and was snoring as if he was asleep.

I growled in anger, but that was as much as I could do. Because like or not, he's probably stronger than I am. I Dropped my head in defeat. If he wants the bed than he can have it. I suppose I could just sleep on the floor for now. For all I know this could only be a temporary thing. Maybe the cell block actually is too crowded. Maybe in this whole building there actually isn't one free cell left...I wasn't fooling myself. I don't know what the Grand Council Women is up to but I'll have to be ready for anything, and who knows, maybe this won't be so bad. For all I know this could just be another paranoid delusion.

XXXX

It was close to dinner time and already my new cell mate was causing me more trouble than he was worth. I didn't think it was possible to hate someone so quickly, but I had to keep my mouth shut. When he ripped up my new sheets I kept quit, and even when he ate my lunch I held my tongue. I didn't want to disrupt the already delicate situation I was in. I don't know anything about this guy. He could be a complete psychopath. If I say something he could lose it and might take my head off. Thats why I decided to let all of these annoyances slide. I wasn't even that hungry. If he wants to take my dinner to, let him. I hope he chokes on it.

As I predicted when dinner arrive he took both bowls for himself and gobbled them down without any rejection from me. I cringed at the horrible slurping sounds he made when he ate. It was like listening to someone suck water from an empty glass. I swear the whole galaxy is out to irritate me until I crack. But I hate bigger things to worry about. It was almost time for lights out. That's when they came. Oh yes—they. I knew they were coming tonight. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. They would come and try to kill me, but I wasn't going to let that happen. I doubted my cell would be any help but I don't need him. I can handle them on my own...hopefully.

As the hour rolled by I could feel the fear building up inside me. My cell mate watched in silent amusement as I nervously paced back and forth. But I didn't care what he thought. He didn't even exist to me. Nothing did. It was just me and them. Everything else I just blocked out. Water spilled down my face but they weren't tears. I hadn't blinked in about two hours. My eyes had become so dry that they just started to water. I didn't care. I can't close my eyes. I can never close my eyes.

After I finished pacing I somehow found myself sitting in the corner rocking back and forth. I had bags under my eyes because I was so tired. As the time for lights out drew closer I felt my anxiety increase. Who was I kidding? I couldn't protect myself when they came. I was going to die tonight and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The time for the artificial night ticked closer and closer and I could already feel their cold rotting flesh as they ripped into my skin. But they weren't what I really was afraid of. They were just the messengers...the coming of they always signaled the coming of—him.

_Eyes!...glowing green eyes!..._

I nervously scratched at my skin until I bled. I didn't even realize I was hurting myself. My eyes darted to my cell mate as he laughed at the injury's I was inflicting upon myself. Why was he laughing? Does he have something to hide? I bet they sent him...Yes! They must have. He was going to kill me. I drew my gaze away from him long enough to look at the pictures and patterns etched into my wall. The pictures and patterns that only I seemed to be able to see. For some reason I drew comfort from them. Staring at their seemingly random order made me feel at ease. It made me feel warm knowing that my cell was once a studio were people used to have fun. It seemed almost impossible that such a fun and happy place could become this dark and dreary prison cell.

"LIGHTS OUT!"

At the warden's command the lights were switched off and the prison block was plunged into absolute darkness. As my cell was consumed by dark I let out a small shriek and began hyperventilating.

"Whats the matter? Afraid of the dark?" My cell mate asked while laughing at the joke he made.

Afraid? Yes I was afraid but not of the dark. It's whats in the dark, lurking in the shadows is what I'm afraid of. I'll admit, I was a little afraid of the dark. How could I not be. The dark was the very thing that brought them on. It cloaked and shielded them, preventing me from knowing where they were going to slither from next. I never wished more that I could see in the dark like my father and brothers. At least then I would have some kind of weapon. But no. Within the darkness of my cell, I was was completely blind. The dark was so thick I couldn't see the hand in front of my face. When I closed my eyes it almost seemed brighter behind my eye lids. When I came to that shocking conclusion I decided to keep my eyes closed. It wasn't much of a difference but at least it was some.

After I decided to keep my eyes closed it didn't take long for me to doze off. I'm not sure how long I was sleeping. All I know is: when the sound of nails scraping against glass jerked me from my sleep; my cell was just as dark as ever. Even though it was pitch black I could still see the pearly white glow of their skin as they slithered around my cell door. They scraped at the glass, their chipped and infected nails making horrible screeching noises as they scraped against the glass. They wanted in—they wanted to kill me. They wanted to get in so they could rip me apart and take me into the crushing oblivion from whence they came. The place were all life and sound is snuffed out. A place where the walls push against you until your crushed into a pulp. It would be easier for them to transport me there if I was in pieces. Thats why they took the shape of rotting arms. They're like movers. They've come to disassemble me like people do a bed when they move to another house. They want me in pieces. We'll they're not going to get it. As long as I'm behind this glass they can't get in.

"Simon..."

I yelled at the sound of the voice for it had come from within the cell. He was here! In an instant I was on my feet. I backed away from the voice only to bump into the cell door. I was trapped, trapped like a rat in a shoe box. There was nowhere for me to run...nowhere for me to hide, and this time no one would be coming to my rescue. My father was back on earth with the family. He didn't know what was happening. Maybe they had gotten to him too. The thought that my father might have been ripped apart and carried away filled me with dread, but I couldn't worry about that now. Right now I had to worry about the monsters that were in my cell.

"Simon..."

I whirled around to see two glowing green floating in mid air. In a matter of seconds the eyes were joined by veins and black and grey fur. In the blink of an eye he materialized right in front of me; The black experiment from my nightmares. He was just how I remembered him; right down to the hulking shoulders and the glowing green veins. A raging fire seemed to shine within his eyes as he stepped towards me with a twisted smile on his face. At that moment I felt terror like I never felt it before. My heart seemed to come to a stop in my chest as my blood turned to ice. Fear consumed my mind, driving out all rational thought. My breath seemed to freeze in my lungs with each step he took. I wanted to run but there was nowhere for me to run. I could only stand there while his rancid breath washed over my face.

Suddenly, when his face was almost touching mine, his clawed hand shot out and grabbed me violently by the neck. I gagged as the air was squeezed from body but I was powerless to resist. With murderous rage the black experiment whirled me around and threw me onto the bed. In one last desperate attempt I tried reach for the sharpened bone that was under my pillow only to have the black experiment jump on top of me. Despite my struggles he managed to flip me onto my back and pin me underneath him using his large powerful hands.

The twisted smile never left his face as he proceeded to bite into my neck, lapping up the blood that poured out. When he had his fill of my blood, the black experiment sat up, looking down at me with what was unmistakably lust in his eyes. When I realized his intent I began to fight back. I struggled to throw him off me but he was too strong. His weight alone managed to keep me subdued me as he began to lick my face and run his hand down my stomach. I gasped as he grabbed me between the legs and began roughly fondling me. I shut my eyes, trying to ignore the sensation that was spreading through my body.

"Stop this," I shouted angrily. The black experiment only smiled and continued to rub me between the legs.

"Whats the matter? He asked. Afraid of the dark?" He laughed madly and continued to lick my face.

_I can't believe this is happening, _I thought woefully. You hear about these things happening in prison all the time but you never believe that it would actually happen to you.

_No! I won't let this happen! _Growling, I lunged forward and bite into the black experiment's neck. He let out a great bellow and ceased massaging my groin. While he was distracted I managed to pull my left arm free and not wasting anytime, I frantically reached under my pillow and pulled out the sharpened piece of bone. As I extracted my makeshift weapon from it's hiding place; the black experiment roared and stabbed me in the stomach with his long deadly claws. He racked his claws downwards in an attempt to disembowel me but I was quick. Thankfully he hadn't seen me pull the bone from under my pillow, and by the time he noticed; I drew my arm back and stabbed him in the throat.

Dark blood spurted from the wound as I wrenched the bone from from his neck and thrust it into his abdomen. With a great heave I plunged the bone deeper into his body and watched as he went limp, rolled off the bed and onto the floor. For a moment everything was still. Slowly I sat up, completely oblivious to the large amount of blood I was losing. With the bone still clutched in my hand, I looked over the edge of my bed expecting to see the body of the black experiment, but what I saw lying there wasn't the creature from my nightmares. I was looking at the body of my now dead cell mate with a small hole in his neck and a matching one in his middle. A dark gel like substance oozed out of the wounds and leaked down his side where it collected in a disgusting mass of his bodily fluids.

I gawked down at his lifeless corpse, utterly bewildered at what I was seeing._ No, this isn't right, _I thought absentmindedly falling off the edge of my bed. As I sat there on my knees, still unable to look away; dark pink blood continuously gushed from the deep and potentially fatal claw mark that ran down my stomach like a jagged scar. But I was too focused on my former cell mate to notice that I was slowly bleeding to death. Confused, I looked to the small hole in his throat and to the blood covered bone still held tightly in my hand. Thats when I pieced together in my head. It all became clear to me now; the stunning revelation shook me hard, but finally my eyes had been opened...there is no black experiment...there never was. It was the creature lying dead in front of me that tried to rape me not the delusional fantasy my mind envisioned.

As I continued to stare at the his dead body with growing anger; the corner of my lip twitched and turned to a snarl. A loud growl escaped my throat and I angrily squeezed the bone until I heard a crack. Never have I felt so humiliated and angry simultaneously. Rage bubbled inside me like hot magma and only increased when I looked down at the bulbous blank eyes that continued to silently mock me. Practically roaring with rage, I lifted the bone above my head and plunged it into his eyes, gouging them out so they could never mock me again. I reveled at the sucking noise the bone made as I ripped it from his socket, but I wasn't through yet. Once more I raised the bone into the air and stabbed him again and again and again. My rage seemed to pour out of me with each strike; all the pain and suffering I've kept buried deep inside ventilated from my body every time I ran him through. Finally when the bone snapped in half, I dropped the broken end and slowly climbed to my feet.

Now covered in mine and my cell mate's blood, I limped over to the cell door and threw myself against it. Angrily I pounded my fists against the glass, my paws leaving bloody smears with each punch.

"Let me out of here!" I cried as I fell to my knees, my face sliding against the glass that still wouldn't budge no matter how hard I hit it. "I WANT TO GO HOME!" I sobbed. Then unable to keep myself standing, I fell to the floor in a pool of my own blood. It was then that I noticed the large gash across my stomach and the torrents of blood that were pouring out of it. "No..." I muttered weakly. "I need that stuff." But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get the blood to go back in. With each passing second I could feel myself becoming weaker. Soon my vision blurred and my limbs went limp. The last thing I heard before I fell unconscious was the sound of a blaring alarm somewhere outside my cell.

XXXX

"Doctor, what about the other one?"

"Never mind him, he's long gone."

"Very well. Should I take this one to the incinerator?"

"No, the Grand Council Women wants this one alive.

_Those voices...who are they? I'm so weak._

"We're losing him! Get him to the infirmary!"

_Where am I? _When I opened my eyes I realized I was on a stretcher. Emotionless faces stared down at me as I was wheeled down a brightly lit hallway. The lights on the roof were so bright they nearly blinded me. I wanted to shield my face with my arms but I didn't have the strength. The stretcher banged into a double door which swung open to reveal a room so bright I had to lose my eyes. The stretcher came to a stop and I was lifted onto a very cold table while hands pulled off the sheet covering my stomach. Moaning, I looked to my right and saw the hazy outline of men and women in white coats fumbling with surgical tools and machines.

"Doctor, I think he's coming to," said a women's voice.

"Put him back under!"

A plastic mask was slipped over my face and I found myself starting to feel tired. The air coming out of the mask tasted strange. I took a deep breath and the feeling of exhaustion only increased. My eyes drooped and I was knocked out just as a scalpel was lowered to my stomach...

XXXX

The sound of a loud beeping drew me from my sleep. At first I tried to drown it out. I wasn't ready to wake up. I wanted to sink back into the war soothing arms of sleep. But that insufferable beeping pulsated through my skull, slowly driving me mad with each shrill ping of sound. _Why don't they turn it off? _I thought annoyed. I tried to lift my arm so I could bat away whatever was making that infernal beeping, but when I tried to raise my arm I realized I couldn't move it. Surprised, I opened my eyes to see that both my arms and legs were strapped down to a table with thick metal shackles. Not only that, a long plastic tube traveled up the side of my bed, into my mouth and down my throat continuously pumping oxygen into my lungs. _I must be in the infirmary,_ I thought looking around at the other hospital beds that occupied the room. I soon located the sound of the beeping which was a machine that was keeping track of my heart rate. Feeling nervous I tried to sit up only to be crippled by a sharp pain that ran down my stomach. _Whats going on?_ I thought. Just then the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention to the door which automatically opened, admitting two longs shadows that were immediately fallowed by two people. Quickly I closed my eyes but continued to peek at the mysterious figures from under my eye lids.

The shorter plumper one I instantly recognized as the Grand Council Women, the sound of her cane pounding against the floor was irrefutable. But I was surprised to realize that I also new the second figure too.

_Flashback..._

_I laid motionlessly on a table as a tall female doctor analyzed my arm. Her touch was soft and gentle. She handled my broken limb like a mother would her child and not how a doctor would a injured prisoner. She smiled down at me as she carefully ran a small device that shone a bright blue light over my skin._

"_Ok, Prisoner 10100101 is it?" She said kindly. This is a pretty nasty break, he nearly ripped your arm right out of your socket but luckily we got you here in time." She switched off the strange device and placed in on a table. "I think your going to be just fine." After she finished packing up her tool kit, she began to fasten a cast onto my broken arm, still just as gently as ever. _

"_So, whats your name?" She asked after a few minutes of silence._

_I shot her a cold stare and let a small growl escape my throat._

_She smiled. "Ok, if you don't want to tell me you don't have to. I just thought it might be a little irritating to be addressed by a number."_

"_...Simon," I said._

"_What was that?" she asked, a wide smile spreading over her face._

"_My name is Simon," I repeated._

"_Pleasure to meet you Simon, my name is Dr. Ira."_

_I didn't respond but a smallest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth—which didn't go unnoticed by the good Doctor._

"_You know," she said after she had successfully attached my cast. "I've been working here a long time and your the first person to tell me their name."_

"_I can't imagine why..."_

_She smiled and pulled a syringe from her coat pocket. "Don't worry," Dr. Ira said when she saw the nervous look I was giving the needle. "This is just to help you relax."_

_I nodded and let her inject me with the strange liquid. I didn't know why, but I trusted her. She seemed kind...almost nice. It was strange talking to Dr. Ira, she was the first person I had made contact with in a while. As I watched apply a bandage to my arm, I couldn't help but notice how out of place she seemed. How could such a sweet women come to work in the infirmary of a maximum security prison?_

_The guards entered the infirmary and notified the Doctor that they were here to take me back to my cell. She nodded her head and allowed the reptilian like guards to drag me out of the room. Before the door closed, I looked behind me for one last look at the Doctor._

"_It was nice talking to you," She said just as the door closed in my face._

_End flashback..._

As I feigned sleep they two women approached my still form. One with a look of disgust on her face, the other with a look of deep concern.

"My God," A voice that was unmistakable Dr. Ira's said sadly.

"I know, revolting isn't it?" the Grand Council Women said with distaste.

"No, I meant these wounds are terrible. The poor thing."

At the sound of Dr. Ira's concern, I peeked at her from nuder my eye lids. She was just as I remembered her. The Doctor was tall with a slender form, her skin was a light shade of purple and her hair was a series of violet tentacles that were tied back in a pony tail, her eyes were a dazzling green and they seemed to sparkle in the light. She wore a long white lab coat and a matching skirt. The customary uniform for all female Doctors. The Grand Council Women on the other hand was... unfortunately just as unappealing as ever.

"So tell me, Doctor, will the abomination live? He's no use to me dead."

I heard Dr. Ira scurry to my bed side and examine my charts. "His vitals are strong but...I think it would be wise to have him transferred to a hospital and-

"Out of the question," The Grand Council Women said. "You forget, Doctor, that this abomination is a dangerous criminal. I guarantee you he will never see the outside of these wall unless it is to face judgment for yet another murder."

"But my lady," Dr. Ira implored. "Simon was obviously defending himself."

The Grand Council Women coked an eye ridge when she realized the Doctor used my name. "The Council will decide that. And in the mean time, I suggest you remember your place before questioning my judgment."

Dr. Ira bowed her head. "Yes my lady."

"Good, you and your team will prepare the prisoner for transportation to Planet Turo, where he will face judgment." The Grand Council Women turned around and head for the door. "Good day to you Doctor," She said as she exited the infirmary.

Sighing to herself, Dr. Ira gently wiped my head with a wet cloth. "What has this place done to you?" She said sadly. I wanted to say something but I decided it was better to keep quit. The warm cloth was so soothing, and the gently hum of the machines was almost like strange lullaby. I let out a gently sigh and silently dozed off as the Doctor continued to wipe my forehead, wringing out the cloth in a tin basin every now and then.

* * *

Alius111: Well, yet another chapter. Simon's got himself in a spot of trouble now. I wonder what will become of him after this. Please Review 


	5. Dr Ira's Helping Hand

**Chapter Five**

**Dr. Ira's Helping Hand and Nobel Sacrifice **

**By Alius111**

It was the sharp, agonizing pain shooting down my right arm that jarred me from my sleep. I tried to get up only to realize that my arms and legs were bound to a table. It was then that I recognized the shrill pings and mechanical whispers of the darkened infirmary. The realization that I was still in the prison gave me a little reassurance, but not enough to put me entirely at ease. The nearly absolute darkness was the source of my distress. The pain in my arm was a little irritating but my discomfort with my arthritis was drowned out by the crippling fear that spread through my body caused by the dark. Here I was, completely helpless, strapped to a table, with no way to defend myself. If they came then that would be it for me. There was no piece of sharpened bone under my pillow this time.

Fervently, I struggled against the restraints, the sharpened edges of the shackles bit and tore at my skin,drawing blood. I cursed but continued to fight against the restraints, ignoring the pain. If only I was strong like my father, then I would be able to break free of these shackles. But now, I was even weaker than before. The only abnormal ability I had at my disposal was my vast intellect. Unfortunately, being incredibly smart wasn't going to do me much good. The possibility that I could somehow think my way out of this jam was very unlikely. Even if I could come up with an elaborate master plan: it would be proven useless by my current immobility and my lack of resources.

_Simon. . ._

The voice came from nowhere. It was so quiet I barley even heard it. My blood ran cold at the sound of that familiar, tantalizing voice. I quivered as the slithering of wet, slimy arms dragging against the tiled floor reached my shaking ears. Frantically, my eyes darted back and forth. Due to the restraints binding me to the table: I could do nothing except lay there helplessly, staring at the ceiling, terrified of what was moving in the darkness. A loud clang rang throughout the pitch black infirmary. The arms had knocked over a table. A table which was only a foot from my bed. They were almost upon me. With new found resolve, I flexed my arms and pulled against the restraints. When I accomplished nothing save for making me a little more sweaty: I gave one last lurch to the left— Suddenly I cried out in agony as the feeling of red hot wires stabbing me in the gut burned through my body. Tears flowed down my face in endless torrents. I can't remember the last time I cried so hard. The pain was unbearable. Pure and unrelenting agony coursed through me like an electric current. The feeling that I was splitting in two was quickly and horribly fallowed by a warm liquid bursting from my stomach, soaking me from head to toe.

Just then I was blinded as the lights suddenly came on, illuminating the infirmary with a glaring brightness. A gasp and the sound of running footsteps were drowned out by my screams of pain. I felt a strange numbness traveling down my arm, and it was only when I looked over that I saw a long syringe being pulled from my shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. The pain suddenly vanished like a wet blanket being thrown over a fire. My limbs went limp and almost felt dead to me. Groggily, I looked up to see the worried face of Dr. Ira, and held in her was what appeared to be a small hand held blow torch that was emitting a dazzling yellow light. She raised it above her head and for a second I thought she was going to run me through with it, but instead she brought it down and ran the yellow light over my stomach, moving it in intricate circles, almost like she was painting a picture. As the light moved further down my body: the feeling of flowing liquid slowly dissipated before I felt nothing more than a light tingling sensation in its place.

With a great sigh of relief, Dr. Ira pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed, looking very displeased.

"What's wrong with you?" She said grabbing a basin of water and a cloth from the table next to my bed. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I growled and stared at her coldly. I didn't have to answer to her.

She sighed in frustration. "Fine, don't say anything." Roughly, she plunged the wash cloth into the basin, and once it was completely soaked: she wrung it out and began wiping down my stomach with careful precision.

I stifled a gasp when I saw the wash cloth had magically turned pink with my blood. Looking down, I cringed when I saw that I was completely covered in my own blood; like I had jumped head first into a pool of the warm, pink liquid.

"You ripped open the synthetic skin," She said, submerging the cloth in the basin and wringing it out once again. "I had to close it or you would have bled to death."

Curious, but at the same time a little nervous, I looked down at my stomach to see a thin, jagged scar running down my body at an odd angle. It seemed to give off a pearly white glow in the light that reminded me sickeningly of rotting arms. Now I knew what she meant. Instead of using stitches, particularity low budget hospitals(like the infirmary in a prison) would apply a synthetic layer of skin to close a wound, and when the wound was successfully healed: they would remove it. Normally, such a sophisticated race with the Galaxy's most advanced technology at their disposal; would use a sort of healing machine that caused cells to reproduce faster, therefore quickening the healing process. But lets face it, this is a prison. The Galactic Federation wasn't about to waste such expensive technology on the likes of me. I was a prisoner, the scum of the universe. I, and all the other unfortunate inhabitants of Prison Asteroid K-37 didn't deserve such special treatment. . . .

XXXX

I lay quietly on the cold, steel table as Dr. Ira examined the long jagged scar that ran down my stomach. Tilting her head, she reached into her tool kit and pulled out a strange hand held device that kind of resembled a screwdriver. She switched it on and the device produced a neon blue light from its tip. I had no clue what it was for, but if I had to venture a guess. . . .I would say it was some kind of scanner.

Quietly, she ran her strange device over my freshly healed skin, sometimes nodding to herself or gazing absentmindedly at the wound that had almost taken my life. She seemed curious but at the same time mortified. It was as if she was admiring some kind of morbid work of art. Sighing, the Doctor stared down at me with a mix pity and curiosity; slowly she reached out and touched the smooth line of scar tissue with her finger, gently caressing the scar. You would have thought she never saw a scar before with the way she cringed.

"Does that hurt?" She asked tentatively.

I stared at her without feeling, letting a deep growl rattle my vocal cords. She pulled back her hand and began to silently jot down notes on her tin clipboard.

While she was distracted I lifted my head off the table and looked down at my body. My chest, stomach, and legs were all laid out before me, unrolled like a crinkled old map. I gawked silently at the thin, white scar that snaked its way across my skin. It was unfortunately quite visible and stuck out in my otherwise flawless coat of fur. . .like a bolt of lighting streaking down my abdomen.

_Why do I feel like I've been branded?_

A thin prickling sensation ran down the exposed skin. I wanted so much to lift my hand and scratch at the itch, but the metal cuffs binding me to the table prevented me from doing so. The Doctor must have noticed my obvious discomfort because—quickly and quietly— she placed her clipboard on her lap and immediately inquired to what my problem was.

I didn't want to say anything. I wouldn't say anything. Especially to her. After all, how could I? She's one of them. On the outside the good doctor seems sweet and trustworthy, but on the inside I had little doubt that she was just teeming with malice and wickedness. She's probably in league with the Grand Council Women, the golden collar wearing bitch of the stars. OH, she pretends not to know—OH, but she knows.

_Yes—Oh YES, she Knows. . ._

"What's the matter?" Dr. Ira asked a second time, sounding a little impatient.

With a huff I looked away from her.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me when something is bothering you."

I looked back at her kind, trusting face and angrily spat at her feet.

She looked at the glob of saliva pooling on the floor, and suddenly slammed her clipboard on the floor, the square piece of tin giving off a loud clang as it hit the tiles. A little frightened, I tried to back away before I realized I was still bound to the table.

"You know what?" She said, standing and leaning over my bed until our faces were only inches apart. "As a Doctor I try to be sympathetic with my patients, but _you"_—She poked me fervently in the chest—"have to be the most difficult person I have ever met in my entire life. At least the other prisoners have enough courtesy to tell me what's wrong with them so I can do my job. I took an oath to help the sick and the injured. But if you want to be stubborn, then as far as I'm concerned you can just _lie_ in these sheets until your one giant pile of mold." Fuming, she snatched her clip board from the floor and began angrily jotting down notes, making sure to give each period she wrote, a harsh and resounding pound. "You could at least show a little decency towards the person who just saved your sorry hide." She said without looking up from her clipboard.

I stared at her in utter amazement, still a little taken aback from her sudden outburst. I watched her angrily scribble down her notes and I couldn't help but feel a small sense of guilt build up inside me. Maybe I should have been a little more polite. She was just trying to help. But I wasn't about to let her lure me into a false sense of security. Maybe I was being a little paranoid, but that sense of paranoia has kept me alive so far. It was my paranoid thoughts that led me to making that sharpened piece of bone, and if it wasn't for that I would probably be in my cell, sitting on my bed as my cell mate braided my fur. But as I continued to stare at her I realized how upset I had made her. After a few moments of silence I looked away from her shaking form and stared up at the ceiling.

". . . .My scar itches," I said quietly.

Surprised. She stared over the rim of her clipboard, looking a little taken aback.

"Is that all? Then why didn't you say so?" She reached out and for a moment I thought she was going to scratch it herself, but to my surprise her hand fell over the metal cuff holding my right arm—and with a click: the shackle popped opened.

I stared absolutely astounded at Doctor Ira, who just sat there looking completely innocent and completely oblivious to my inner turmoil. What was she doing? She just willingly released a potentially dangerous criminal, who at any second could claw her throat to ribbons. Was she so trusting that she would put her own life at risk? If that's the case then "trusting" isn't the word I would use. I would just call it stupid.

"You look surprised," She said.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked in disbelief. "You just took away the only thing preventing me from mutilating you. I could kill you at any moment."

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I don't think you will."

"Why not?"

She simply shrugged. "You would have done it already."

Still confused, I shook my head, and looked away from the Doctor's amused expression and quietly scratched at my scar.

"I'm sorry," She suddenly proclaimed out of the blue.

I ceased scratching myself and looked curiously at her, more confused than ever.

"For what?" I asked.

"The scarring,"She said indicating the long scar that had so far caused nothing but irritation. "If we had gotten you here sooner we might have been able to. . . ." She trailed off and silently stared down at the floor as if ashamed to look at my scarred body. It was almost like she saw not being able to prevent scarring was a massive failure on her part. I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to console her? I wasn't in any real position to console anyone. Never the less I felt the need to cheer her up. I'm not sure why—It's not like I was in love with her. I'm no longer capable of love. No, It wasn't love. That much I was sure of. It was something else. Both of us saw a potential companion in each other. Some kind of friend in this dark and dreadful place. Someone to reach out to after such a long time of loneliness.

All paranoid thoughts I had conjured about her were dismissed but not erased. No matter how much I wanted to. . .I couldn't keep the seeds of doubt and paranoia from stewing at the edge of my mind. They constantly stalked around my consciousness, like lions circling prey, just waiting for the right moment to strike and rip away what's left of my sanity.

"Hey," I said poking her lightly on the shoulder.

She looked up at me with a curious expression.

"T-Thank you. . ." I said. "For. . .you know, saving my life."

She smiled. "Your welcome."

I wanted to seem as normal as possible, and I'm sure on the outside I looked like every other injured convict who has been dragged into her infirmary. But on the inside my mind and body was a turbulent maelstrom of insanity in it's purest form. I didn't tell her that even as she talked I could see things crawling on the walls. Long, transparent, slithery things that only I could see. They would writhe and twist, some of them falling on the floor and coiling around table legs. I didn't tell her that I heard voices in my head. Hundreds of inaudible and unrelenting whispers. I didn't tell Dr. Ira that it was taking every ounce of my self control to refrain from screaming and shouting in absolute panic.

There were monstrous things in this room. Subterranean and primeval things. I've seen them since I opened my eyes and I continue to see them even as the Dr. Ira spoke to me, completely unaware of the horror festering around her. I couldn't tell her about them. If I did then it would only put in her in danger. To try and include her and bring her into my own deranged world of rotting arms and green eyes would be like pulling her over an invisible barrier. If she was aware of them then they would kill her. As long as she remained completely oblivious she was safe.

Still, I couldn't keep myself from sweating. I gulped and rested my head against the table as she fastened the shackle around my right arm.

"Simon, what's wrong?" She asked when she became aware of my distress.

"N-N-Nothing," I stammered.

"Your trembling," she said, sounding concerned.

"I'm just a little cold. . ." Fearfully I glanced to the ceiling and began hyperventilating as two massive green eyes materialized above me, staring down at my body with a sickening blood lust.

I let out a loud whimper as the room darkened and hundreds of rotting arms began pouring from the glowing edges of the eyes like a squirming mass of snakes. I was afraid. These were the rotting and skeletal arms of the people I had killed, and the eyes were the reflection that stared back at me as I looked into the mirror. The eyes became a swirling pit of fire, blood curdling screams sounded from within their fiery depths—

"Simon."

Terrified, I looked to my left and gasped in fright when I saw Presley standing next to me. But this wasn't the Presley who had continuously visited me in my isolation; this Presley was darker. His skin was rotted and shriveled like he had been decaying in water, his eye were white and opaque, his upper lip appeared to have been ripped of, revealing a set of rotted black teeth, and his fur was drenched inexplicably in crimson blood. He was like something out of my nightmares, something from the deepest darkest region of my subconscious.

"Look what you did," he roared in a deep, demonic voice. As he cackled a dead arm slithered through the hole in his stomach which was dripping blood and letting his organs dangle over the edge of the gaping hallow. Cracking its knuckles, the dead arm slashed Presley across the face, and I nearly vomited as piles of squirming maggots poured from the cuts, Presley only laughed as maggots spewed from his face and fell onto the floor where they squirmed and writhed. "They ate me Simon, now they're going to eat you." He laughed madly and the piles of maggots rose into the air, still writhing, floating towards me in a heaping mass.

Heart racing, I turned to the Doctor.

"You have to get me out of here!" I yelled insanely. "There going to kill me!"

She smiled, but it wasn't her normal smile. It was false. It was the same smile Elvis wore right before he pushed me off the cliff. Seeing her wearing it terrified me to my very soul.

"Oh Simon," She cackled maliciously. "I know, believe me I know." Just then her face changed. Her skin rotted away revealing a coat of black fur. Green veins pulsated all over body as lethal black claws burst from her fingertips. "Come on fagot, give us a kiss." The Black Experiment seethed, running its long red tongue over its lips.

unable to hold it in any longer: I screamed in terror, pure, absolute terror. It was fear like I never felt it before. I was screaming so loud I thought my lungs might burst from my chest, and as Presley, the Black Experiment, and the swarm of rotting arms enveloped me: I was shocked. . . or perhaps horrified to realize that I wasn't screaming. No, I was laughing. Laughing insanely, finally driven completely mad by the weight of my delusions and paranoia. My scarred psyche had finally given out and my mind had finally collapsed. I was completely lost in my delusions. All the barriers of reality and time completely torn and obliterated. And even as I was ripped limb from limb and carried into the crushing oblivion of Hell, to join these monstrous creatures for all eternity: my dismembered head only laughed. Laughed madly and never stopped. Even when Dr. Ira was forced to inject me with a powerful sedative, I still laughed, and even as the guards wrapped me in a straight jacket and prepped me for transport I laughed. The darkness of a ship's cargo hold wrapped its velvety tentacles around me and the sedatives intoxicating effect took hold. But even as the ship roared to life and I fell into the endless darkness of my mind: a quite, inaudible chuckle escaped from my mouth.

XXXX

I stood upright, tightly bound in a straight jacket. Large, thick, leather straps were woven around me, binding my wildly thrashing body to a metal dolly. The warden stood next to me, nervously glancing at my snapping jaws as I tried to chew through the leather belts.

"Stop that!" A guard snapped, shocking me with his metallic prod.

A powerful current surged through my body, but I only laughed and spat in the guards face.

The Grand Council Women glared down at me from her golden podium and silenced the ambassadors who had broken out into thousands of inaudible murmurs.

"Prisoner 10100101," the Grand Council Women's harsh commanding voice radiated throughout the Council Room. "You have been brought before this council to face judgment for the murder of Prisoner 00663. How do you plead?"

"Oooooooooooooooooo," I said, swiveling my head around and around. At the moment I was at the trial that would determine if I would life or die, but I couldn't care less. I was much more interested in the fictitious ball of light that was quickly orbiting around my head.

"Answer Trog!" The Grand Council Women snapped.

"Uh. . . I don't think he can hear you, your excellence," The Warden said warily.

"What is the matter with it?" She asked, fixing the Warden with her penetrating stare.

"Well-uh-well-I-I," The Warden stammered. "Well, he seems to be. . .Uh—completely insane."

I looked to the warden and laughed. Insane? Wasn't that the understatement of the year. I was WAY passed insane. I was out there, and I mean REALLY out there. I'm talking about the wacko, bonkers, Koo-Koo for coco puffs, lights on but no ones upstairs kind of crazy.

The ambassadors glared down at me with distaste. The so called nobility of the galaxy obviously thought it was a waste of their time to pass judgment on a crazy little fur ball who was getting his kicks out of the warden's shirt because it was a dark shade of blue. I'm not exactly why it was so funny, but I thought it was a riot. When I growled and lunged at the guard: the ambassadors gasped and recoiled in their seats. These pompous stuffed shirts probably thought I was the most disgusting thing to ever crawl out of Prison Asteroid K-37. In their own heads they might be the pinnacle of the status quo, but my eyes only saw faceless statues, garbed in flowing black robes. Cold, unfeeling, un-faces stared down at me, every single one of them wishing for me to drop dead. Each of them was an omen, a dark spirit predicting my own inevitable death, and quite frankly. . .it terrified me.

"Very well," The Grand Council Women said coldly, letting the spotlight cast dark shadows over her face. "If the accused is unable to speak for himself, then I have no choice but to sentence him to death by execution—"

"I will speak for him."

All heads turned to the entrance of the Council Room. There stood Dr. Ira, standing with her head held high, her feet planted firmly on a hovering platform as it floated towards the golden podium where the Grand Council Women stood, looking positively furious.

The platform came to a stop before the podium, and Dr. Ira cleared her throat, fixing the Grand Council Women with her own look of pure loathing.

"I will speak for the defendant." She proclaimed to the council.

"State your name," The Grand Council Women said, sounding absolutely livid.

"Doctor Caratius Ira," She said calmly, obviously unaffected by The Grand Council Women's penetrating stare.

"What is your purpose here?" One of the advisors standing on the gold podium asked.

Dr. Ira cleared her throat. "As I already stated, I have come to speak on behalf of the defendant."

"And why," The Grand Council Women seethed, her icy green eyes narrowing. "Are you defending the ACCUSED? As you know, it is the decision of the council that will decide its fate, and I have already passed my judgment. As far as I'm concerned: this case is dismissed."

"Well, as YOU know," Dr. Ira said calmly and defiantly. "According to the laws set by the previous Grand Council Women, it is customary that every living thing that passes through this council is giving a fair trial, and given a chance to speak for himself, which the defendant is currently unable to do in his current state of mind."

"The previous Grand Council Women is no longer in office. _I _am now the chief and commander of the Galactic Federation."

"That may be so, but it is not in your power to change the law without a vote from the council— "

"ENOUGH!" The Grand Council Women shouted, her firm and disciplined sense of self control thrown to the wind. Dr. Ira fell silent but did not drop her gaze from the golden podium. "Very well Dr. Ira," The Grand Council Women fumed, "You may defend this—this. . .thing. But I promise you: if you defend this DISGUSTING Trog, I will personally see to it, that you never see the light of day again."

"Um, excuse me you eminence," Gantu said warily. "But I don't believe you have the authority to—"

"SILENCE!" The Grand Council Women snapped, turning her flaring green eyes to Gantu who stood at her left. "Consider yourself fired and imprisoned for insubordination."

"Wha-What?" Gantu stammered. "But you can't—"

The Grand Council Women raised her hand and silenced Gantu.

"Now, what is your decision?" The Grand Council Women asked, looking down at the good doctor.

All eyes, including my own, were on Dr. Ira. She seemed to be weighing the decision in her mind. She knew what she was getting herself into. If she defended me then her life was over, and she knew it.

"Well. . .if those are my options," Dr. Ira faltered a little but looked up into the Grand Council Women's eyes and plainly stated: "Then consider this my resignation."

The ambassadors simultaneously gasped and looked to the Grand Council Women, anxious but at the same time a little terrified to see her reaction.

"Very well," She said coldly. "Then you may proceed. . .at your own risk."

The atmosphere in the Council Room had become thick enough to cut with a knife. Dr. Ira had willingly stepped from her sheltered life and was now walking on the razors edge. All for my sake.

"After careful analysis," Dr. Ira announced calmly. "I have established a medical profile of the defendant, and it is my professional opinion that he is suffering from a severe case of psychosis—"

"How is this relevant to the murder of Prisoner0063?" The Grand Council Women cut across.

Dr. Ira tensed but kept herself composed. "I am merely trying to establish the defendant's current state of mind because it is essential to his case. According to the laws of the Federation: If the defendant is proven clinically insane, then the defendant cannot be held responsible for his actions."

The Grand Council Women scoffed. "And I suppose you believe you are qualified to make that assumption?"

"I most certainly am," Dr. Ira said sharply. "I am— or was, a licensed Doctor. I am _more_ than qualified to make that assumption, and if you review the medical profile I submitted into evidence: you will clearly see that the defendant is sufferings from the symptoms obviously associated with psychosis."

"And those symptoms are?" An advisor asked but instantly regretted it when the Grand Council Women glared in his direction.

Dr. Ira cleared her throat. "The defendant has demonstrated both auditory and visual hallucinations, erratic behavior, disorganized thinking, and problems associated with vocal communication and self care. It should also be noted that the defendant has demonstrated these symptoms about three months ago and was administered into my care. He received treatment and under your orders was pulled from the infirmary and placed back into his cell before his treatment could be completed." Throughout her speech, the Council Room remained deathly quiet. If someone dropped a pin into the bottomless pit below: I had no doubt that you would be able to hear the sound of it hitting floor. "Further more," Dr. Ira continued, "It is my professional opinion that if the defendant had remained in my care: he would have received the treatment he needed and this whole mess could have been avoided."

The verbal battle between Dr. Ira and the Council must have continued for hours. Every time the Grand Council Women contradicted her, Dr. Ira immediately responded with a comeback. She was obviously a very intelligent women, and finally after Dr. Ira had completed presenting her evidence: my survival almost seemed certain.

"The Council will vote," The Grand Council Women announced.

After a prolonged and tedious vote, and after four recounts the Grand Council Women had no choice but to drop all charges and have me submitted into the infirmary until I completed my treatment and was considered legally sane. But unfortunately for Dr. Ira. The Grand Council Women wasn't finished. She may mot have won the jackpot, but at least she had one small consolation prize.

"Guards," The Grand Council Women said, her face sinking into a frown. "Place Miss. Ira, under arrest for high treason, and crimes against the federation."

Dr. Ira who had been so relived when I was found innocent; willingly allowed the guards to arrest her and escort her out of the Council Room in shackles. Still completely demented, I cackled and watched as they carried her out of the room. She looked back and me and smiled right before she disappeared behind two massive steel doors. I never saw Dr. Ira again.

* * *

Woo, this one took a long time to write, but after a few re-writes I finally got it done. Please Review. 


	6. Locked In The Infirmary

**Chapter Six**

**Locked In the Infirmary**

**By Alius111**

Where am I? How long have I been here? What are these shapes? Yes, there were shapes. Not only shapes. . .but people as well. Though my vision was blurred, I could still see people and shapes ducking in and out between the haze that clouded my eyes. Sometimes they would come and go. Sometimes they would linger for long periods of time at the corner of my mind. I would vaguely be aware of things moving up and down my body. Other than there was only silence. But suddenly, one night a deep, rough voice broke through the silence. Shattering the tranquility and bringing me to light. I wanted to open my eyes—but the light. . .it hurt—

"So, you must be pleased now that Caratius is out of the picture."

_Caratius? Who are these voices?_

"Yes, I am. I've been gunning for that bitch's job for years now."

"Well, now you go it. Your head of the infirmary. Congratulations."

"Thanks," There was a loud clang of metal and the sound of rushed footsteps.

"Such a shame what happened though." A voice said after a prolonged silence.

"It's her own fault. She got emotionally involved."

"Why do you think it was this one?" A cold, gloved finger poked me on the forehead. "You don't think they were. . . ."

"Were what?"

"You know. . .having sexual relations?"

There was a light chuckle.

"No. Fraternizing with prisoners alone is a blatant violation of regulations. And Caratius was _all_ about the rules. So it's safe to say that having sex with a prisoner would have been crossing the line."

There was a pause.

"Also, how could he? He really doesn't have anything. . . .you know, down _there_."

Another chuckle.

"Yes he does. In the males of this _unique_ species: the genitals—or the more scientific term being 'sexual organs' are kept retracted in the body." The second voice droned on in a dull and professional tone almost like he was teaching a class. "I've found out quite a bit about his anatomy when I scanned his physical structure. Fascinating creatures."

"Ah. . . . .So what's wrong with this one? Caratius said it was Psychosis."

"Could be. He's shown all the signs. Hallucinations, disorganized thought. But it could also. . .possibly, be schizophrenia."

"Which is it?"

"It's hard to say. . . .he hasn't spoken a word in weeks."

"But his lips are moving."

_Were my lips moving. . .Yes, I believe they were._

"He's not talking to us. God only knows what he sees."

"So he's a loony, eh?"

"That's putting it delicately. Patient 10100101, has shown little to no improvement. It seems like a lost cause to me. . ." The voice trailed off. . .

"How long is he going to stay like this?"

There was a sigh.

"No idea, I say we _up_ his medication, move him back to his cell in the infirmary and call it a night."

I let out a small groan as I was lifted into a sitting position. Strong hands pulled my arms into warm and constricting sleeves, I didn't fight it. A large jacket was strapped and belted tightly to my body, my arms crossed across my chest, unable to move. The restraints of the straitjacket were tied a little tighter than usual. Just then, cold, prying fingers forced their way into my mouth, shoving two large capsules under my tongue. I sucked on the fingers and swallowed the pills, cringing at the bitter taste as they dissolved in my saliva. A cup of water was forced under my lip and I drank. The cold liquid poured into my mouth, washing away the bitter taste of the pills. Then, not a moment after the cup was pulled away from my dripping lips; a syringe pierced the skin of my neck and a quaint numbness and the irresistible urge to sleep overwhelmed me.

My mind and boy was a cloud. And like a cloud both felt weightless and permeable. Almost effortlessly I was lifted onto a metal table and strapped down tightly. All though I hardly saw the point of restraints. What did they think I was going to do? I was nearly catatonic. I was more doped up than a college freshman after new years. High as a kite I was, and all thanks to my medication. Those wonderful pills that helped take the pain away. Both mental and physical. I still wasn't completely healed from my last encounter with my late cell mate. Weeks later and I still collapsed in intense agony if I made any sudden movements. It was understandable. A wound that severe would take time to heal—But sometimes I think they're not letting me heal. Sometimes I think they're making me hurt on purpose. Yes, that's what they could be doing. Were they purposely not letting my wound heal all for the sick and maniacal purpose of keeping me incapacitated and docile? Yes, that sounded like something the Grand Councilwomen would do. It was right up her alley along with tyranny and unfair trails. Did they have the power to do that? Did they have the means to enter my body and keep my cells and tissues from repairing themselves? The thought terrified me and made my spine shudder in unease.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." The voice broke through the cloud, and the cloud parted, breaking apart and letting rays of sunshine run it's warm fingers over the landscape. But much to my chagrin, when the haze inflicted by the medication broke so suddenly; the landscape was revealed to be a tiny cell with soft, padded walls with no lights, no bed, and only one door. And the sunlight I saw was the thin beam of light sneaking past the door frame.

I was unstrapped from the table and placed gently in the center of the room; my body sunk into the supple yet strangely yielding surface of the floor. It was like floating on a whiff of cloud. A thin trail of drool poured from the corner of my mouth as I looked to my left to see two obscure, humanoid shapes pushing a large platform that never touched the floor into the blazing white hall beyond the door. With a loud and agonizing shriek, the thick metal door slammed shut, cutting off all light, plunging my tiny cell into darkness. With the closing of the door: all sound was cut off as well. All contact with the outside world was lost. All light, sound, memory and thought completely drowned out by the haze and the gray shroud of my medication. All except for one word that kept popping into my head every now and then. A single word that kept appearing in my consciousness like a pale moon ducking in and out between the clouds.

"Aloha," I said merrily to the ceiling as if I expected it to answer back.

Aloha? The word continuously jumped to the forefront of my mind, suddenly, without warning, and inexplicably. Aloha? Where did I hear that word before? I willed it away but its annoying and striking familiarity wouldn't allow itself to vanish from my mind entirely. For no apparent reason when I thought of that word: Palm trees and images of crisp tropical climates shattered the haze. Bringing to light memories of people and places I had long forgotten. But were they real? I can never be sure. The wonderfully intoxicating effect of the pills clouded my judgment, or was it the needle that was making my head so hazy? Either way, I depended on both of them. And unfortunately, possibly even tragically, I was hooked on them. I've been loaded up with so much medication: I found myself craving the sainted capsules and syringes with a ravenous and insatiable addiction. Those wonderfully habit forming drugs had taken hold of me as a result from overuse. This put me even deeper into the Grand Councilwoman's grasp. I both depended on and wanted those drugs, so by fault I depended on her. I've never tasted the sour tonic of addiction before but now that I have: I have to say that when my cravings were satisfied it can be the most wonderful feeling in existence. But in the lonely and pain staking hours when the pills and syringes wore off, and I had to wait for my next helping: My body shivered and froze to the very core almost to the point that I wanted to cry. Maybe if I broke my hand. . .the pills would come faster. I probably would have if not for the straitjacket.

They really had me on a leash now. I was like a lame dog whimpering after a raw steak as it was dangled over my head, just out of reach. I would have probably begged for them if it came to that. And it made me sick. I swear they did it on purpose. They purposely abused the capsules. They got me hooked on those drugs so they could ensnare and control me. It wasn't enough that they condemned me to a life of miserable imprisonment. They had to get me addicted to the drugs, the drugs only they could supply. It was an exceptionally nice touch to my misery. The Grand Councilwoman's no doubt. Yes, more than likely. Well. . . .At least I no longer felt the pain of my arthritis. At least there was a silver lining.

XXXX

I rode the high of my medication all the way up to cloud nine—no, I had to look down to see cloud nine. Light as a feather I rode the drugs above the clouds until the effects of the pills and syringes wore off and I was sent plummeting back to the cold and unforgiving earth where I was left shivering and crying, desperately waiting in purgatory for the time when the thick steel door would open and the doctor would enter my cell, pills and syringes in hand. Well, not so much the syringes. They sort of weened me off of those, and now I only want the pills. But the horrible yet marvelous grip the medication had on my mind and body was not the worst of my troubles. . .the so called treatments to what the doctors have called my 'insanity' were my real problems. To me it seemed like they were trying to brainwash me rather than trying to cure me. The anti-psychotics were taking their toll, but the electroshock treatments were even worse than I remembered. It seemed more like torture.

It would always be the same: My eyes would flutter open and would I find myself strapped to a metal table(I seem to be strapped to a lot of tables lately) With electrodes covering my body. I would be in a dark room surrounded by sinister looking machines, the faint hums of their mechanisms sounding like the threatening growl of wild animal. The Doctor would ask me questions and every time I failed to answer it correctly: they sent a powerful current surging through the electrodes and into my body. The electrode attached to my groin was the most painful. . .my muscles would seize and convulse. My back would arch and the hum of the machines would be drowned out by my screams. An eternity later when the sessions were finally over; I would be thrown back into my cell, physically and mentally exhausted. But my torment didn't end there. Depending on the results of my 'sessions' they might hold back my pills. For me that was the worst torture imaginable.

I'm not sure how long this went on for. Sometimes it seemed like forever. But eventually I started to show some improvement. Like a beaten down old car being pushed up a hill, I was slowly gaining progress. Steadily the time between the hallucinations and the visits from my dead brother grew further and further apart. But for all of my so called 'progress' there were still nightmares. Most of them being painfully accurate reenactments of my treatments. . . .

_'What is your name?'_

_'Simon—'_

_A powerful surge of electricity—I scream_

_'What is your name?'_

_'Simon—'_

_Another surge of electricity._

_'There are no arms—'_

_Another current is pumped into me, immediately fallowed by intense pain. I scream._

_'There are **no** eyes—'_

_Yet another jolt of electricity that lights me up like a Christmas tree._

This went on for a while. At least I always had the pills to take away the pain. Everything was alright when I took my pills. The bastards. . .they probably wanted it that way.

Through out all of the drugs and the treatments I would always think: What are these bastards doing to me? My increasing mental health was coming at a price. And not just the dark cloud of addiction that constantly floated menacingly over my head like halo. No, it was me. I was suffering. I myself was suffering. I was losing myself. . .It became apparent to me one day while I was lying on the floor of my cell, completely doped up from the medication. My eyes blood shot and glazed over, a goofy smile plastered on my face. The sudden realization that I was undergoing some kind of mental metamorphosis came suddenly and was fallowed by an overwhelming sense of guilt. This place was changing me. Sure, prison had hardened me, but this place was changing me in a way that prison never could. It's hard to explain. I started to feel like the Black Experiment. I knew he wasn't real, but he was the personification of the darker side of my personality. A side of me that had grown stronger with each passing day. The pain I was forced to endure and my desperate craving for the pills being its main catalyst.

I remember the electrifying feeling I had when I was under the influence of Chemical 606. It terrified me, but at the same time it thrilled me. There was always a line separating me from the Black Experiment side of my personality, but now that line had been blurred. If I wasn't the same person I was before. . .Then I was even farther gone now. The damage had been done. I was cold, and unfeeling. . .a shell, a desperate and erratic thing prone to bouts of depression and anger. . .maybe I always was. But in all sense and purposes, I was. . .healthy, I suppose, or at least as healthy as I was ever going to be. But my most shameful act came to pass when the Grand Councilwoman came to me in my padded cell.

When she entered I looked up at her, broken and hopelessly desperate. And she looked down at me, smiling cynically, and obviously satisfied with the shattered creature she saw before her. . .

"So, how are we feeling?" She asked with no true empathy. "Better I trust." She leaned on her polished black cane, the silver handle glittering in the light shining through the door frame.

No longer wearing a straitjacket, I looked up at her, my eyes cold and lifeless, my face ragged and taut, but said nothing.

"I thought I would assess your progress myself. I am glad to see that you are coming along swimmingly."

My ears and head dropped, I stared vacantly at the floor, the long jagged scar streaking across my abdomen giving off a pearly white glow in the light.

"And, of course. I have come to administer your medication—"

My head shot upwards, my eyes alive with a spark of desperate hope.

She smiled and held out her hand. Resting in the center of her palm were two large, blood red capsules. My heart leapt at the sight of the pills. Oh, how I wanted those pills. I _needed _those pills.

Slowly, I climbed to my feet and took a few tentative steps towards her, but she pounded the tip of her cane on the floor and I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Tsk, tsk," She said, closing her fingers over the pills. "If you want these then your going to have to do something for me."

_Do something? Fine, I'll do whatever you want! _My mind screamed at her. _Just give me the damn pills!_

She began relaying some instructions as two guards entered the cell. One carrying a table which he placed in the corner of the room, and the other carrying a small case of writing utensils and a rather thick folder, but I didn't see any of these things. My eyes never shifted from the Grand Councilwoman's fist, the one clenching the pills.

"Oh, you want these. . .don't you?" She opened her fingers and jiggled the pills around in her palm. Smiling, she let the pills fall from her palm where they landed in her other hand with a minute rattle, grasping her cane with her free hand.

My eyes desperately fallowed the pills as they made their journey through the air and into her waiting palm. Gulping, I started to sweat.

"I have a weapon I need designed. This weapon may decide the outcome of the war and guarantee the Federation's glorious triumph. My scientist are incompetent and unable to handle an assignment of such importance, but I believe this is the perfect project, for _you_." She gave the pills another rattle. She knew what she was doing. She had a fish on the line and now she was reeling it in."Will you do this? The choice is yours. Of course, if you refuse. . .then I'm afraid I can't rightfully give you these."

Snag! She had the fish on dry land and now it was wildly jerking around in the sand.

I gave the pills in her hand one last look. Sweating feverishly, I nodded.

She smiled. "Excellent. I believe _one _capsule will suffice. . .for now." She let one capsule drop to the floor and I lunged for it, hungrily pawing at it before finally scooping it into my mouth.

I let out a sigh as sweet relief washed over me. The pills dissolved in my spit and slid down my throat. Oh, the bitter taste, the satisfaction, the rush! It was all so wonderful.

"Now for your end of the bargain." The Grand Councilwoman held out the thick folder and I took it from her, holding it against my chest as if I was afraid that it might shatter at any moment. She turned to leave, but at the last moment, she looked back at me, her icy green eyes boring into mine. "You have one month." She stated. "One month, if you take a moment longer—even if it is but a second. My offer is rescinded, and I will leave you in this room. . .to _rot_." And with those comforting words of motivation, the Grand Councilwoman left, slamming the door, once again entombing me in the soft, padded walls of my cell.

Between the time I had taken the pill and the time it took to take full effect; I had already thrown the file to the floor, knowing that I didn't have a chance of getting any work done on whatever the Grand Councilwoman wanted me to do. Hell, once the pill kicked in: I would barely be able to see straight. I was never exactly sure what the medication did. Over time I would monitor the aches and pains in my body and simply guessed what the pill did by listing what ceased to hurt. Eventually I determined that it was an anti-psychotic and a hallucination suppressant, but at the same time being a pain suppressant as well. But I soon found out with an almost tragic and heartbreaking sadness: that the longer I took the pills the more the sensation of my 'high' decreased. It seemed my little trips were aided by whatever was in the syringes—which I was no longer taking— And now, with the pill working on its own; it failed to achieve the same effect it had before. If I wanted that, then I would have to take more pills. And maybe a syringe or two. Regrettably I didn't have the latter.

Each time I took the pills this annoying little voice would nag at me. Not a voice dreamed up by my subconscious, no, not another hallucination. I suppose it was—for lack of a better word— my continence. It warned me that the longer I took the pills the greater my urge to take more would grow. But I didn't care. I was hooked on the stuff. Hook, line and sinker. As long as they provided me with the intoxicating relief I needed: I couldn't care less.

But since it looked like I wasn't going for another ride with the puff the magic dragon; I stationed myself in front of the table, the thick folder laid open in front of me, its contents spread out on the slick metal surface, the papers grinning up at me with there endless calculations and numbers. When I realized what she wanted me to design: I nearly had a heart attack. Was she crazy!? To design a weapon of this magnitude that accurately fit her criteria was going to take me months. And she wanted it done in one!

_I'll leave you in this room. . .to rot_

I gulped. "Well, I better get to work."

My mind more focused than it had been in months, I began working. When I first began I thought it would be awkward or that it might be difficult to get started, but it wasn't. It was familiar and fitting, like slipping into an old shoe. The pencil flew over the paper as my mind crunched a seemingly infinite amount of numbers simultaneously. For the first time in months, my photographic memory kick started and spun into gear. My head was a violent tornado of intricate thoughts and calculations. But at the same time it was organized and had a solid order that came to me at an alarming speed. It was so strange. It was like my mind had been focused like a laser beam, and now—for the first time in a long time—my head was clear. I was finally able to think clearly. My thoughts were no longer disorganized or erratic. My train of consciousness and perception of reality was no longer muddled by hallucinations and delusions. I suspected the pill I took had something to do with that. Imagine that: A pill that when combined with a strange liquid in a syringe could give you a great high, take away your physical and mental pain, and make you hopelessly addicted. But on its own it did all that but no longer made you high, plus it concentrated and focused your mind like sunlight shining through a magnifying glass; while at the same time still having that addictive affect. This really was a wonder drug.

But what would happen if I stopped taking it? Would my head just pull into a dead stop and make a wild U-turn back into crazy ville? Would this time of sanity and clear thinking only last as long as I took the pill? Could I function normally without it? I wasn't sure. Maybe after a while they would have slowly weened me off the drugs when it had sufficiently built up in my system and I no longer needed it. But they weren't fallowing procedures. Just because I wouldn't _need_ the drugs, that wouldn't mean that I didn't _want_ the stuff. I was addicted to the pills and they knew it. Maybe they were even hoping it. But I didn't care. I was a junkie who had finally gotten his fix and now I was working it off by designing weapons of mass destruction. A strange situation. . .then again, my whole life has been one big strange situation. . .

Hours later, I gently massaged my temples as a pounding headache began to bury its claws into my brain(an irritating side effect of the pills that was normally neutralized by the syringes) And as time slowly went by, the pain in my head became too much to bear. So, I gave up. I threw my pencil over my shoulder and climbed out of the chair. My feet sank into the elastic material of the floor and I collapsed in a heap of black and grey fur. My eyes drooped and I soon found myself unable to stay awake. Eyes rolling into the back of my skull, my breathing slowed and I fell asleep, a large pool of drool pouring from my open mouth as loud snores sounded from deep within my chest. . . It was the best nights sleep I've ever had since coming to prison.

XXXX

Five months had passed(I now regained my sense of time) And the day finally came when I was declared legally sane. After five grueling months of drugs and five months of shock treatments; I was finally allowed to leave the infirmary. I was still addicted to the pills, and I doubted that the Grand Councilwoman would relinquish that power over me. But despite some eccentrics I was healthy healthy as horse. I had finished her designs a day before the deadline. And she seemed pleased with them. Pleased enough to award me with the second pill she had so callously held back five months prior. I hadn't the slightest idea how powerful I had made the federation—and its leader—by handing the Grand Councilwoman the blueprints I designed. But I didn't care. I had my health, and I was leaving the infirmary. All was well. . .or so I thought.

I emerged from the dark, padded cell, my sensitive eyes stinging from the blaring light of the outside world. My hands were bound in magnetic shackles and the Doctor—the one who had replaced Dr. Ira — was waiting for me outside in the hall. Tin clipboard in hand, he looked down at, and simply asked:

"What is your name?"

Coldly, I looked up at him and replied: "Prisoner 10100101." I had to say that. I instinctively knew if I said "Simon" I would receive a violent shock.

The Doctor nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard. I had a sneaking suspicion that that was the same clipboard that once belonged to Dr. Ira.

"I see the Grand Councilwoman has ordered we continue administering medication. . .how very odd. These are known to be habit forming," he said this with a cynical and vindictive smile.

My tired and raged eyes looked him up and down. "Tell me," I said, my voice was rough and scratchy from not misuse. "Exactly how long did you wait to steal that clipboard after Dr. Ira was taken away?"

The Doctor frowned."Return the prisoner to his cell," His fists tightened possessively over the rim of the clipboard. "It's about time he rejoined the rest of the scum."

XXXX

I wasn't taken directly to my cell. We made a little detour first. The guards led me down that familiar dark hallway that led to the showers; With its rusty, water dripping pipes, and its moldy and dreary atmosphere. From the screams and shouts coming from the other side of the door I concluded that I wouldn't be the only one using these facilities today. I quietly sighed in frustration. Great. That's just what I wanted to see after my first day out of the infirmary: thirty naked aliens. Oh well, I guess I would have to suck it up. I stank and needed a shower. My fur was sweaty and reeked of body odor. So, it looked like I was going in there, but if any of them tried anything: I wouldn't hesitate to kill them. Not this time.

The door slid open and the guard pushed me into the showers, the door slammed behind me and I was immediately assaulted by moisture and the foul stink of sweat mixed with soap. Quickly and quietly, I walked through the crowd, head lowered, making sure to stare at nothing but the floor. I don't think anyone noticed I came in. But as I walked towards a free shower head I could feel hundreds of eyes watching me, constantly fallowing my movements. The never ending roar of the running showers as they poured jets of frigid water upon the tiled floor was not enough to drown out the streams of loud conversations and angry shouts of my fellow inmates. Some were arguing with each other, some were playfully fighting, but most kept to themselves. I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as I walked under a vacant shower head, letting the icy water pour down my body.

Herds of angry voices crowded somewhere behind me and among the sound of running water I could hear a faint cry of pain. But I didn't dare look. Some poor, weak soul was probably getting gang raped. And that wasn't something I wanted to see.

_Just look forward, _I told myself. _Just keep your head down and look forward._

Just then someone to my right poked my shoulder.

Flexing my claws, I looked. But there was no one. Nervously I shrugged and continued washing myself. Being in the presence of thirty naked males, all of them a completely different species. No two ever quite the same, made me feel a little exasperated. My last few encounters in the showers were not exactly pleasant. I shuddered at the memory. There was a cold feeling in the center of my chest, almost like I had swallowed a ball of ice and it had accidentally got lodged in my throat. It had nothing to do with the icy water spewing from the shower head, continuously soaking me like a drowned rat. It never did. It was something else. A deep, sly voice had risen over the deafening beats of water against tiled floor, drawing everyones attention to my lonely little corner.

"**Well lookie who we got here," **A man who would be know as "the Boss" announced.

I turned around to see that I was surrounded by a gang composed of four extra terrestrials. The Boss I immediately recognized. His was a tall, morbidly obese blob with dark yellow skin, his arms were thick as tree trunks and short, stubby tentacles wiggled and squirmed atop his head. And thankfully his gentiles were obscured by the large round stomach protruding out in front of him. I knew him? Of course I knew him. How could I forget the man who broke my arm. Seeing him again sent a twinge of fear running down my spine, but wait. . .there was something else. Yes, it was anger. Not just anger—but rage. Seething, fiery rage. I clenched my fists and let a growl escape my throat despite the fact that I was hopelessly out matched and out manned.

The other three members of his gang leered at me but I did not shy away. But I will say this: they were the strangest band of thugs I've ever seen. The one to the Boss's left was the tallest. To me he looked like giant centipede perched on two spidery legs. He had no face, but it soon became apparent that he could somehow see and hear everything around him.

The one next to him, the only one who seemed to be hating the showers a much as I did, was a short, stout, humanoid like creature. His skin was a deep shade of purple and his whole body seemed to be made up of, or at least covered with squirming purple tentacles. In some ways he kind of reminded me of an octopus. He seemed jittery, but over all secure. Well sure he felt secure. Why wouldn't he? He was part of the big boys on the block. The ones in charge of this little underground world. Why shouldn't he feel secure.

The third member who was on the immediate right of the Boss, was obviously the 'muscle' of the gang. To me he looked like something picked out of Greek Mythology. Some sort of half man-half reptile creature. He had the vague shape of a human almost like he was painted by an artist who had never seen a human before in his life. He was a huge, six foot tall, hulking mass of muscle, with scaly green skin and a head that looked like a crocodile. Large, deadly looking fangs protruded from his mouth in sharp hooks. I cringed as I imagined how easily they could rip through me. If I was ever asked what a criminal in an alien prison might look like: the thing standing in front of me was probably what I would imagine.

The giant centipede hissed something in his own language to his Boss and he laughed, his thick round, belly vibrating and bouncing up and down.

"**OOOH, watch out," **He laughed. **"I think we got em' angry. Listen to his little growl."**

The others all joined their Boss in laughter, a few other prisoners treated themselves to a light chortle, but otherwise minded their own business.

Suddenly, with an amused expression; the Crocodile man pinned me with his steely, hard eyes and let out a rock shattering growl that sounded like a rusty chain saw slicing through a sycamore.

I jumped back in surprise and they laughed even harder. The Boss silenced them and, looking down at me with a sadistic grin, he smiled.

"**I'm thinkin' we are needin' to teach this punk some respect." **He cracked his knuckles.

Without warning— the Crocodile man and the Centipede lunged forward, a strong hand grabbed my neck, lifted me into the air, and slammed me against the wall. I grunted in pain as the back of my head connected with the tile. I suddenly realized that the water that was still pouring endlessly from the shower head was now quite warm. But only after I saw the dark pink trails swirling down the drain beneath me did I realized that it wasn't the water that was warm. No, it was my own blood.

"**What'a we gonna do wit it Boss?" **The Octopus asked with a flare of excitement.

"**I'm thinkin' wer gonna have some fun with em'," **The Boss replied.

The Crocodile Man gave my windpipe a squeeze and I gagged, my legs wildly thrashing. I tried to claw at his hand, but his skin was too strong even for my claws to pierce. Quickly I looked him up and down —looking for some part of his body that would be sensitive to my claws. But every inch of him seemed to be covered with scales. All except for—my gaze lingered on his face—His eyes!

He moved his face closer to mine, but still out of reach, and let out another ear splitting growl.

_Come on. Just a little bit closer, _I thought. I knew what I was planning was suicide and the rational part of my mind screamed for me to reconsider, but I'll be damned if I was going to let those bastards beat the hell out of me.

As the Crocodile Man opened his mouth, revealing a couple rows of razor sharp fangs: my mind suddenly brought up an image of me cowering in the sand as Elvis, Aaron, and Presley mercilessly pummeled me. This only seemed to fuel my anger turning my fiery rage into a blazing inferno. And as the Crocodile Man brought his face closer, planning on sinking his teeth into my shoulder, I attacked.

My claws came whistling through the air and buried themselves in the Crocodile Man's right eye. Dark blood spurted from the whole I was gouging in his head, and when he finally realized what was happening: he released his hold on my neck and I fell onto the water soaked floor, my claws wrenched from his socket as I dropped; they made a loud popping noise like a cork bursting from a champagne bottle.

I hit the floor and looked up at the Crocodile Man. His hands were pressed against the right side of his face, his fingers trying to stem the flow of blood. He let out a cry of agony that sounded remarkably like his growl and fell to his knees, his naked body shivering in the cold water. All the other prisoners watched him with morbid fascination, but none went to his aid. The other members of his gang had disappeared into the crowd and had left him there to suffer. No loyalty in prison I suppose.

For a moment the showers were silent. The only noise being the constant drum of water against the tiled floor and the quiet whimper of the Crocodile Man as he tried to get back on his feet, his hand still fastened to the side of his face. Just then a fight ensued.

It was like a bomb had suddenly gone off in the showers, exploding in a wave of flying fists and splashing water. For no other reason than the sake of a good fight. The prisoners throttled each other, punches were thrown, limbs and jaws were broken, and soon the fight had evolved into a full blown riot. Bodies were dropping dead all around me, shower heads were ripped from the walls and used as clubs. And all I could do was sit there, watching in growing fear as my shower became a blood bath.

There was fire and rage in everyones eyes. A murderous lust for blood and death pulsated from the prisoners like waves of heat. The inferno of my rage had been extinguished and was replaced by blood chilling fear and a desperate sense of self preservation. I frantically searched for an escape but everywhere I looked I was caged in by a mass of writhing and flailing bodies as they furiously attempted to kill each other. But an escape was the least of my worries.

Throughout all the commotion, the Crocodile Man had managed to pull himself to his feet and was now barreling down on me, looking like a car with a busted headlight. Roaring, he lunged through the air, teeth glaring, his good eye alive with a dark light. But before he could get to me; just as his claws were an inch from tearing out my throat. He stopped.

Letting out a great bellow of pain, the Crocodile Man came to a dead stop in mid-air. For a moment he hung there suspended like he was being held up by invisible strings, and then came down with a surprising force. It was only when a small furry creature jumped onto his back did I realize that he didn't just stop in mid-air. Something had caught him and held him up before slamming him into the floor. And now that something was standing on the Crocodile Man's naked back, staring down at me with large black eyes.

For a moment I thought I was staring at my father—the Experiment certainly looked like him. But I soon the noticed the obvious differences. This Experiment had the same shape and size of my father but was a little more rougher in appearance. His body was covered in deep red fur except for his chest and around his eyes, there the shade of red was a little lighter. Two bent antennas with black tips protruded from his head and four blood soaked arms extended out his sides, his blood soaked claws looking just as sharp as mine.

The Red Experiment stared at me for a moment; he looked both confused and surprised to see one of his own in prison. Maybe he thought he was the only one.

The Crocodile Man groaned and tried to get up, but Leroy—Yes, I believe his name was Leroy, grabbed the back of his head with all four of his furry little hands and slammed it into the floor with all of his strength. There was a loud crack like the sound of breaking ice and Crocodile Man's body started to convulse, his legs and arm shacking madly back and forth; blood began to pour from his fractured skull, collecting around his head like a red halo. Leroy didn't seem bothered by the sight of blood. . .actually he seemed quite pleased by it. Finally Crocodile Man's body went limp and Leroy jumped from his back and began walking towards me.

My mind screamed for me to run, but he would kill me before I could even take a breath. But instead of looking angry or even murderous, Leroy looked curios, and instead of attacking me like I expected; when he finally got to where I was still sitting on the floor, he grabbed me by the forearm and hoisted me to my feet. Curiously, I looked at him. I waned to say something, but my tongue seemed to be tied in knots.

"Meega. . .Leroy," He said, pointing a single black claw to his chest.

"S-Simon." I held out my hand and he grabbed it in his iron grip and gave it a hardy shake.

It looked like he was about to say more, but suddenly the fight that was still raging around us shattered the tranquility of our meeting. What seemed like a hundred naked aliens jumped for Leroy, but without even making an effort; he snatched them out of the air as they came flying towards him and literally threw them through the walls. He was like a red blur as he sped through the screaming crowd, lopping off limbs, and throwing people around like rag dolls. One of them tried to sneak up from behind him, but he saw this and lifted him over his head, snapping his back like a twig. In all the commotion, everyone seemed to forget that I was there.

_Fine by me, _I thought. _Let them chase and be killed by **that** crazy son of a bitch._

It was at that time that the guards decided to break up the fight. Not just one or two, but a whole unit. All armed to the teeth and ready to kick some ass. But by the time they had gotten there, Leroy had already killed or disabled more than half of the rioters.

A barrage of tranquilizing darts and small balls of plasma rained down on the rioting prisoners and myself like a biblical plague. Those who weren't already collapsed either in pain, dead or incapacitated, hit the floor like dead wood; all but Leroy who continued to fight. The guards tried to subdue him, but he ripped through the small unit of guards like tissue paper. Unfortunately, one stray dart had pierced my shoulder and a wave of exhaustion suddenly swept through me. Even as I fell to the blood soaked floor; it became apparent that Leroy had only stayed here because he wanted to. If he ever wanted to leave he could have, and that day. . .he did. Soon the guards fell and so did my eyelids, the tranquilizer taking full effect. But just before I dozed of; I saw the fuzzy image of Leroy grabbing one of the guards guns and running out the shower door.

XXXX

Returning to my cell was rather more anti-climatic than I thought it would be. It was actually rather comfortable. It's funny, in some strange way. . .I actually missed it. At least it had a bed. After the whole Leroy incident; the bodies in the showers had been disposed of and the injured had been sent to the infirmary. There were quite a few more dead than injured. Oh well, most of them were never going to see the light of day again.

There was no sign of Leroy. Some of the guards think he escaped, but others weren't so sure. For some reason they believed that he was still here. . .lurking and waiting. For what. . .I couldn't imagine. The Prison had been placed under full lock down. All entrances and doors had been sealed shut and no one was authorized to leave. Not even the Grand Councilwoman who failed to return to Turo in time was allowed to vacate the prison. At the moment they were keeping her in a safe room under heavy guard. The thought of that horrible women being somewhere in the same building wasn't exactly pleasing. But the image of her hiding in her little room, maybe even sweating a little brought a smile to my face.

_Let her know what it's like to be locked up in here. All alone. . .not able to leave. _I would enjoy picturing that for a while. . .

The hours rolled by and I started to feel anxious. Cursing, I began to pace nervously around my cell, cold sweat dripping from every pore on my skin. Dinner was due to arrive any moment. And with it my pills. It was coming but not fast enough!I needed those pills. Why were they taking so long?!

"Where the fuck are they with my pills!" I yelled, slamming my fists against the glass door.

I couldn't take this. I was going out of my mind—Again! I was suffering from withdrawal. The kind of withdrawal a junkie suffers from when he runs out of money to buy crack from his dealer. But I didn't have to pay. No, mine were free of charge. Complementary drugs from the good old G.F Itself. I got to say this was one hell of a government. They supplied you with drugs and all you had to do was give them quicker and more efficient methods of killing themselves. They were gold. But they certainly weren't fast!

"Where the hell are they!" I grabbed the sides of my head, my sharps claws dug into my skin, drawing thin trails of blood.

Finally the glass door slid open and the guard placed the usual bowl of gruel on the floor, and next to the bowl he dropped two blood red capsules.

"It's about time," I stalked across the room and kicked the bowl aside—I didn't care about the gruel I only wanted the pills.

Pushing the guard aside, I scooped up the pills and quickly threw them into my awaiting mouth.

I let out a gentle rush of air and leaned my head back. When I opened my eyes I was a little surprised to see the guard still standing in my cell. Apparently, the pills wasn't the only thing he brought.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked him.

"You will be sharing this cell with another prisoner," He announced.

"A cell mate? Another one."

"Yes, he will be here shortly."

And no sooner after he had spoken those words. A hover platform ascended to my cell, and two more guards entered, fallowed by a tall man bound in cuffs.

When I got a good look at him I nearly did a double take.

No. . .It couldn't be him. . .It wasn't possible. . .

"Jumba!"

* * *

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	7. Fletcher

**Chapter Seven**

**Fletcher**

**By Aluis111**

"Jumba!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide open in shock.

"Here we are," The guard said, throwing Jumba to the floor like a sack of potatoes and unlocking his handcuffs.

Swearing loudly, Jumba turned away from me and watched the guards with seething hatred as they started for the door. They looked back at us one last time before finally descending onto the platform.

Sighing, he looked up at me and I frowned. The moment I saw the metal plate fused to his face; the plate that covered his right eye, I knew. I knew with an almost heartbreaking certainty that the man—even though he was the same species and was identical in appearance—was _not_ Jumba.

While he had the same build and the same stature as Jumba, he was not—there's no delicate way of putting this . . . .he was not _fat_. Where Jumba was stout and overweight, this man was very lean and muscular. The prison uniform he wore on his torso did little to conceal his rock hard chest and well developed abs. His arms were so thick they had ripped apart the sleeves of his uniform, showing off a net of throbbing veins that ran under his skin like bolts of lightening. There were other subtle differences that separated him from Jumba. While Jumba had a light purple tinge to his skin; this man's skin was a dark shade of midnight blue.

My eyes once again wandered to the metal plate covering one of his four eyes and I wondered how he had gotten it. But I didn't ask. Despite the ferocity and brutality of his appearance, I was not afraid. Well, maybe a little. But if he wanted to fight I would fight. Perhaps not willingly—I still detested violence—But if I had to defend myself then I would rise to the occasion.(Even though I wouldn't stand a chance in hell) Considering the size of his hands he could crush me to dust between his thumb and forefinger.

Frowning, he looked me in the eye. I dropped my gaze. His eyes were like rocks. Cold and hard, their deep lights seeming to burn like the fires of Hell.

Quickly, I looked away and stared at the wall.

_This is just spectacular, _I thought, clenching my furry little hands into fists. _If my last cell mate looked bad, this one looks like he's going to kill me._

For a second or two, I waited. My ears perked and listened to the long, dreary silence that stretched on betweens us with no end in sight. Every time I heard him shift, I kept expecting him to leap from the floor and throttle me. When compared to him I was like David sharing a room with Goliath. Well, It looked like Goliath was going to lift up his foot and crush poor little David. The only thing worse than the thought of being killed by this delinquent sociopath was the anticipation. If he was going to kill me I wished he would just get it over with instead of making me sit there, sweating bullets like a dog in a Chinese restaurant. A dog cowering between the booths, waiting for the chef to saunter from the kitchen and cook him in a big pot.

Nervously I glanced at his still form and was exasperated to see that he was staring at me. All four eyes but the one concealed behind the metal plate was looking me up and down. It was almost as if he was appraising me. He smiled at me and I nervously returned the gesture.

"What's your name?" he asked. His voice was rough and gravely, but at the same time it was deep and powerful. Each word he spoke seemed to have enough concussive force to shatter a boulder.

I prepared myself for the worst and flexed my claws. If he came at me I would be ready to pluck out his eyes and give him more metal plates to match the one he already had.

"Are you deaf?" He said. "Tell me your name."

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, the question practically laden with suspicion.

He shrugged. "We're gonna be spending some time together. I'm thinkin' we should know each others name. Now tell me your name," He repeated. It seemed more like an order than a request; it was probably in my best interests not to disobey. So I told him my name.

". . . .Simon," I said to him.

He nodded, and about five minutes later I gathered enough courage to ask him a question.

"What about you?" I asked, secretly regretting each word as I spoke it. "What is your name?"

Again he shrugged. "Don't got one."

Didn't have one? What was that supposed to mean? Was he pulling my leg? A little intrigued I perused the subject.

"You must have a name," I insisted.

He chuckled a little. It was a light rumbling sound. "Nope. When I was born my dear old mum sold me to some sleazy pirates and took off. . .Didn't even bother givin' me a name. Just grabbed her shit and spread it all the way across the galaxy." He smiled and stared at the ceiling with a calm, serene look on is face as if he was reminiscing fond memory's.

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that. What do you say to a person who was abandoned by his mother at birth, and even more incredibly seemed to be perfectly fine with it. But we were making conversation. And when one is making conversation one does not have time to slaughter small furry cell mates. So, it was of the utmost importance that I keep this little chat of ours on the rails.

"Ah. . .I see," I mumbled a little uneasily. He must have sensed my discomfort. He chuckled and the mood in the cell seemed to shift a little.

"People call me Fletcher,"He announced and held out a large, muscular hand.

Cautiously, I leaned over my bed and grabbed the tip of his finger, shacking it gingerly. Any moment I expected him to suddenly take hold of my hand, to scream madly, and snap my neck, or maybe he would break me in half and eat my innards. But instead of mutilating me, he simply leaned back and rested against the wall.

_Damn my vivid imagination, _I thought angrily.

"I'm gonna take a nap if ya don't mind," He said. His voice had become quiet and thick with weariness. He had the run down appearance of someone who has traveled a great distance in a incredibly short amount of time. But if he wanted to sleep then he was going to want the bed. His type wasn't the kind to ask politely, so rather than be tossed across the cell; I jumped from the bed and positioned myself on the cold, cell floor.

"You don't have to do that," He said, not opening his eyes.

"Do what?"

As if he hadn't heard me he rolled over and completely ignored my question.

"I'm not about to barge in here and take a man's bed," He muttered quietly, dozing off in the beginning of another sentence. His loud snores rocked the cell and I knew he wouldn't be getting up for a while, so I decided to make the best of my time. . . .

Six hours had passed and Fletcher hadn't given any signs that he might awaken soon. His snores thundered loudly throughout the cell, sounding very much like the crash of thunder that shortly fallows the lightening. Frankly, I was surprised the prisoners in the next cell over hadn't complained about my noisy new cell mate disturbing the peace. Then again, even if they had I would have prayed for the man who went up against a leviathan of Fletcher's enormous size. The man looked like he could break a car over his back.

Yes, six hours had passed and I could find little to do other than contemplate the limits of Fletcher's physical strength. I barely even knew him and here I was wondering if he could compress of lump of coal into a diamond—of course that was absurd. But when your bored your mind tends to wander. And wander mine did. I spent most of my time looking around my cell; everything looked exactly the way I left it. My gaze occasionally found its way back to Fletcher's sleeping form, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. He seemed so solid, so unbreakable. I always assumed there was more of Jumba's kind floating around the universe. But I had never seen or encountered one before. . .until now that is. At least the past six hours wasn't completely wasted. In my solitude I learned how to conceal the scar that ran across my abdomen. The dreaded scar that sullied my fur coat like an infection. The horrible canker that served only as a reminder of my pain and humiliation. It was actually quite simple: all I had to do was simply brush my fur over the scar and _poof_! It was gone. With my fur covering it you couldn't even tell there was a scar. So as far as I was concerned: there was no scar.

Another hour drifted by and Fletcher had roused from his sleep, he greeted me and I greeted him. At first we tried to mind our own business, but it soon became clear to me that he was much more eager to talk than I was. He seemed friendly enough, but I still kept my guard up. I've always been a little suspicious and maybe a tad bit paranoid, and my time spent in prison has only increased my paranoia ten full. Still, he was adamant. Eventually he grew bored and attempted once again to make small talk with me, and despite my most sincere efforts to keep to myself; we soon found ourselves deep in conversation. It wasn't a talk I particularly enjoyed, but it certainly was educational; even in prison you can find something new to learn. I could tell the time I spent in my cell talking with Fletcher was going to be an interesting time indeed.

XXXX

"So, what are ya in for?" Fletcher asked, his hands propped securely behind his head.

"Well. . ." I contemplated the consequences of revealing my crimes but quickly decided that it could do no harm. "Alright, I suppose there's no harm in telling you." I rested my elbows on my knees and prepared myself for a lengthy speech. "I massacred an entire fleet of Federation Soldiers, I concocted illegal scientific experiments without the Council's authorization, and. . . .Ah yes, I destroyed a Federation war ship."

Fletcher whistled.

"That's quite a list you got there," He said, impressed.

"So how about you," I said. "What are you 'in for' as you put it."

He laughed, and not just a small chuckle; this time it was a genuine laugh.

"You mean what am I NOT in for!" He bellowed, tears streaming down his face. He seemed to find the joke much funnier than I did. I was polite and let out a light snicker, but it was no where near as intense as the laugh Fletcher was helping himself to. Soon, he finally managed to stifle his laughter and recomposed himself—or at least as composed as Fletcher possibly could be. I wanted to ask him again, but the subject of the crimes that had landed us in prison seemed to have flown right out of his head. Almost as if it had escaped through his mouth like so many bursts of oxygen as he laughed. But I did have another question I wanted to ask him. A question I wanted to ask ever since I first laid eyes on him. I had refrained from asking it earlier, but after spending some time with him; I was certain that he wouldn't mind. Perhaps he had even been hoping that I would bring it up. To him it would just be another chance to tell another story.

"Fletcher," I said.

"Ya."

"How did you lose your eye?" I asked, pointing to the metal plate that was fused to his face with an eerie precision. Whoever had done it hadn't been in a hurry. They took there time, they put effort into it. Hey, maybe they even had fun. And honestly, I was dying to know why.

Fletcher laughed and reached up with his right hand and gently ran his fingers over the metal plate.

"Oh this? My bitch of an ex-wife took it out when I was sleepin.'"

I gawked at him, completely at a loss for words.

"Oh don't worry. I woke up after she done it and _I STABBED the bitch in face!_" His left hand gripped a fictional knife and thrust it through the air, violently stabbing at an invisible head. I watched silently in morbid fascination as he retold these horrific situations almost with a strange fondness. "Ugh . . .women," he said, shacking his head back and forth. "They say they want you to be sensitive and always with the talking—but what they really want is to be thrown to the floor and banged like a dirty old drum!" He had grown rather excited and was on his feet, shacking his hands through the air. "Anyway," He continued. "Things pretty much went down hill after the stabbing."

"Yes, that can happen," I said, a little uneasy. "Attempted homicide can be a real relationship killer."

Fletcher laughed again and gave me a hard smack on the back. "Hey, I like you," He said. "What was yer name again?"

"Simon," I told him for the umpteenth time.

"Simon?" He said, "I won't forget that name."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure you won't."

"Your smart aren't ya?" It wasn't a question it was a statement. "I can tell by the way ya look. You can smell it on people," he announced confidently.

"Me?" I asked. "No, I'm not that smart.

Fletcher shook his head. "Na, your pulling my leg. I can tell yer smart, and I could use a smart guy like you."

I inclined my head. "You make it sound like your going somewhere."

He gave me a look. That same appraising look. "I am," he said. "A couple of my boys are comin' in a week to bust me out."

"That's not possible," I said. "No on can get in or out of this prison."

He waved away my comment. "I got a man on the inside. Actually, he looks a lot like you. Sept he's red."

"Leroy?" I asked.

He pondered the name for a moment. "Ya, I think that was his name—anyway in a week that little bastard is gonna cut the power and blow this bitch wide open. Then my boys are gonna come strollin' in like they own the joint and are gonna get me the fuck out of this shit hole."

I nodded my head, deep in thought. So Leroy was in on Fletcher's little plan the whole time. That would explain why he escaped, and why he lingered in the prison. Is that why he approached me in the showers? Was he trying to include me—one of his own—in Fletcher's crazy little escape plan. But if Fletcher was serious about needing someone of my talents; then that meant I finally had a way out of prison. But just then, a thought entered my head: Fletcher obviously had powerful connections if he was going to attempt an all out assault on Prison Asteroid K-37; that meant he would have valuable information. Information I had previously been denied. A golden opportunity had been dropped—No, had been hand delivered to me on a silver platter, and I was going to take it. First, there was one thing I needed to know.

Clearing my throat, I chose my words carefully. "Fletcher, may I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," He said.

"What became of the previous Grand Councilwomen?"

"You mean you don't now?" He asked, practically ecstatic.

I shook my head and he laughed. I didn't really appreciate being laughed at, but he had information I needed., so I kept quiet.

"Kid, the Galactic Federation is at war."

My eyes opened in shock. I wasn't expecting that. The Grand Councilwomen had mentioned _something_ about a war, but I was barely paying attention. My mind was on the pills she was holding in her hand; I didn't care what she was saying. But now I wished I had paid attention.

"With who?" I asked Fletcher.

"Well . . . with guys like me."

"What are you? Freedom fighters?"

He laughed. "No fucking way. We got our freedom."

"Pirates?"

"Yer gettin' warmer," He said.

I thought it over for a moment, but I was far too tired for guessing games. Rather than waste my time guessing every breed of scum that ever crawled from under a rock; I told him I gave up and he explained everything.

"We're the opposite of the Federation. I'm one of twelve bosses that run the shit hole they call Argon 7. It's a planet in 23320768692th quadrant. That's where all the big stuff goes down. It's just one big city. That's bin our base of operations fer years. We've been fightin' those Federation bastards for a long fucking time. They got some beef with us. We've been screwin' with em.'You know: Hijacking their ships, raiding space stations. Even fought a few battles." He sighed and bowed his head. "Lost a lot of good men— anyway, I'm the commander of one the biggest army's not controlled by the Federation. Those shitters got me during a raid. They used weapons I never saw before. Blew Zarria to fucking pieces."—He shook his head—"Crazy bastards."

"I don't see what this has to do with the Grand Councilwomen," I said.

He looked up at me, that same appraising look. "I'm gettin' to that. Like I was sayin' We've been at war for years, and the old bitch—or Grand Councilwomen— whatever the fuck you want to call her, was doin' nothin.' She kept sayin' that our feud could be solved by negotiations, you know all peaceful like, and she wouldn't fight. Meanwhile we're blowin' up their ships and killin' people, so the Council got pissed off and gave her the boot. They said they wanted a leader who would take action. Fuck man, did they ever get it. That fat cunt is like the Devil himself. She has the eyes of a demon and a piece of brimstone shoved far up her ass. I'll be damned if we didn't start losin' after she took charge."

"You started to lose the war once she got in office?" I asked.

"Fucking right," Fletcher said. "It wouldn't have been so bad of we weren't fightin' ourselves though."

"Fighting amongst yourselves?"

Fletcher nodded. "Let me explain somethin' to ya kid. Argon 7 is split in half. On one half you got me and my boys, and on the other half you got the Gogalaks. Their mean sons of bitches and they got some pretty nasty bastards workin' for them. We're also fightin' them too. And I'll tell ya: if our shit wasn't spread out so thin, we would have killed those bastards! Oh but they got connections. They got all these resources you know. . .from tradin' an stuff."—Fletcher stretched and pulled out what looked like a black cigar from his pocket. He stuck it in his mouth and lit it with a match he had stowed away in his pants. He offered me one but I declined. Sighing, he took a long puff and exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke from his nostrils. "That's better," he said, taking another long drag. "Now what was I sayin?' . . .oh ya, the Gogalaks, they got some deal with some guy who keeps runnin' them supplies. That's what's really hurtin' us. What was that bastards name?. . . .Hamster somethin'—

"Hamsterviel" I corrected, my face twisted in anger.

"Ya, that was it," Fletcher said, snapping his fingers. "He's the reason we're losin.' Now I'm in here and my boys are out there getting their asses handed to them." He sucked back on the cigar, the fiery tip glowing in the gloomy cell. "But I won't be here fer long. I'll be out kickin' ass in a week. Well, I suppose I said all that needs to be said." He took the cigar from his mouth, inspected it for a moment, and then proceeded to throw it into his mouth, his yellow teeth crunching down on the blackened stump.

I silently absorbed the information he had relayed to me and already the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. From what I heard the Galactic Federation was at war with Fletcher and his gang. They disposed of the previous Grand Councilwomen because they wanted a leader who would fight the threat to the intergalactic order. And not only was Fletcher fighting the Federation; he was also waging war against a rival gang. And this rival gang was in league with Hamsterviel. Something Fletcher said suddenly came to mind. He said they were using weapons he had never seen before. I realized with a small twinge of guilt that the Federation was more than likely using the weapons I had designed. But that was the least of my worries. I needed to think about my options.

"So what'd ya say? "Fletcher said, climbing to his feet. "Do you wanna come with me when I bust outta here?" He held out his large muscular hand symbolizing the finality of our agreement, but I did not take it.

". . .I don't know," I said coldly. "I don't know if I want to live your kind of my life."

Fletcher laughed. "My kind of life? Kid, come here." Before I could object he grabbed me by the shoulder and forced me in front of the cell door; we both stared through the impenetrable glass and gawked at the thousands of cells that surrounded us. All occupied by a prisoner. "My kind of life?" He repeated, staring out at the cathedral sized prison block. "Kid, this is your life. When you end up in here, life on the right side of the tracks is over. Look at yerself. Your a criminal. Yer _scum_ These are your people." He waved his hand through the air, like a minister preaching a gospel. "It's either live our life—your life, or die. What's it gonna be?" Once again he held out his hand for mine. Silently I stared at it, still not sure what to do. If I chose to go with him then that meant I was never going to live a normal life again. I would live a life of crime; always fighting, always looking over my shoulder for the Federation. If I took his hand I would be resigning myself to a life of endless treachery's and back stabbings. I would be stepping into a completely different world. A world I knew nothing about. Carefully and precisely, I thought the matter over in my head, my ethics and rational thinking waging a fierce battle in my mind. Then finally, I made my decision.

Letting out a rush of air, I looked Fletcher right in the eyes and shook his hand. "I'm in," I said.

He smirked. "Welcome to the team, partner." For a moment his grip tightened on my hand and his face grew stern. "Just remember one thing," he said. "Once yer in this family, there's no gettin' out."

I nodded and he released my hand.

As I climbed back on my bed and covered myself with my blanket, eager to get to sleep. I suddenly realized that I had just entered the Galaxy's equivalent to a mafia. Fletcher was one of the Dons and his 'boys' were his family. And now I was part of it. I willingly entered a criminal organization. A world of crime, drugs and money. I wondered if I did the right thing. It may grant me my freedom, but did I really want to live like that? I was too late to start second guessing now. Like Fletcher said: I was in and there was no getting out. I shuddered at the thought of what they might do to people who ran out on the organization. I couldn't help but picture cement shoes and deep, glassy rivers. I was assaulted by images of corpses sinking to the bottom of a river, water flooding their lungs as Fletcher stood on the docks saying it was nothing personal it was just business in a professional tone. And with these comforting thoughts; I slowly dozed off, my dreams filled to the brim with cement shoes and thick Italian accents. That night my sleep wasn't disturbed by nightmares.

XXXX

When I awoke Fletcher explained the gist of the plan to me. And the more I ran over the details in my head the more I got the feeling that something was going to go wrong. It all seemed too sloppy and a lot of it depended on Leroy, who may or may not be captured by the Federation before the week is out. But I wasn't worried. I had a plan of my own. A plan far more lucrative and more likely to succeed than Fletcher's—and maybe a tad bit more elaborate. The plan suddenly came to me one day while I was lying face down on the floor of my cell in the infirmary. And like any good plan it came inexplicably and without method. I remember looking up at the roof, mulling over the simplistic yet refined complexity of my plot. Hours . . .maybe even days I had wasted, desperately trying to think of a way out of here and it had come so suddenly. Almost as if a flare had fired up from my subconscious, lighting the way like a beacon. At first I had dismissed the idea, there was no way it could possibly work. But as I kept trying to think of a solution; I found myself returning to my original scheme. It would require outside help, and up until now I had no such help. But now I had Fletcher. And it couldn't be more perfect. Not only was Fletcher one of the most powerful and influence men in the universe; for what I had in mind he fit the criteria perfectly. It was almost as if it was meant to be.

I looked at Fletcher who was sitting in the corner silently starring up at the ceiling, another black cigar which he called 'Black Sticks' protruding from the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, Fletcher," I said.

He looked away from the ceiling, taking another long puff of his cigar. "Ya," He said, a whiff of smoke spewing from his open mouth.

"Do you think there is the chance that your escape plan might not work?"

He blew another puff of smoke from his mouth. "Why wouldn't it work?" He asked. "It's easy: Leroy cuts power, my boys storm the joint, get us the hell out of here."

"Yes well, a lot of the plan seems to depend on Leroy."

He shrugged. "So, he's a tough son of a bitch. He can handle himself."

I nodded. "Yes, that is true, but Leroy has a. . .a weakness."

"What kinda weakness?"

As is if on cue a hover platform soared past our cell, a large speaker playing Aloha Oe. The Hawaiian folk song played on before it slowly faded away as the platform moved further down the prison block.

"That song," I said. "If he hears that song, then they got him."

"Ah, don't worry about it." Fletcher lit up another black stick and stuck it in his mouth. "Leroy can handle it."

I nodded but wasn't entirely convinced. Leroy had very good hearing and if just one lyric from that damn song should find its way to him. . .Well, we could just forget about escaping. Wherever Leroy was, I sincerely hoped that it was soundproof.

"Yer gonna love it on Argon 7 Kid," Fletcher suddenly announced, pulling me from my thoughts. "That place has more drinks than you could drink and more women than you could screw in three lifetimes." Closing his eyes, Fletcher blew another cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Word of advice though: before you go throwen women into yer bed you should check out their track record. Cause if they're not clean, then you got a big problem on yer hands." Another cloud of smoke billowed from his between his lips. "So I think when ya first get there you should keep it in yer pants. . .or—uh. . .wherever you keep it."

I nodded, but really didn't think it was going to be a problem. If females of my own species weren't interested in me. Why should any other female be? But I did have a question I needed answering:

"What will I be doing there?"

He looked at me and crushed the remainder of the cigar between his finger tips. "I need a smart guy. The one we got now is a little loony. Yer gonna be our science officer."

"Okay, I should tell you now I'm not much of a fighter."

He shrugged. "That's alright. We got people to do that. Stop worryin' so much, yer gonna have the time of yer life." He raised an invisible glass and toasted to the planet. "Argon 7" he said, proudly. "Where the drinks are cheap and so are the women!"

Just then the cell door opened with a hiss of air and a guard stepped in, holding two bowls of gray paste in his hands.

Anxiously I watched the guard as he placed the bowls on the floor and. . .Yes! He set two blood red capsules next to my dinner. Just looking at them made me sweat. I was starting to get a little aggravated. The effects of my last pills had long since worn off. But that didn't matter. They were here now and every nerve in my body screamed that I had to have them. Once the guard left I went for the pills, but Fletcher had seen the way I was looking at them and had gotten to them first.

"Give those to me," I said sharply.

Ignoring me, he curiously eye the tiny red capsules in his hand and his eyes widened. "they're givin' you this?" he asked. "This is powerful shit."

"Yes, this is all very educational, now give me the damn pills!" I was practically ecstatic now. Fletcher looked down at me, his expression troubled, but eventually shrugged.

"OK,OK, He said holding out the pills. "I'm not yer papa."

I snatched the capsules from his hand and quickly dry swallowed them. Almost immediately relief washed through my body like a calming wave of crystalline water. Every cell in my body seemed to dance and sing for those wonderful pills. And even as I sat on my bed, my eyes closed in tranquil pleasure, I couldn't help but begin counting the seconds until the next meal. As good as they felt, I never felt satisfied. I aways felt the undeniable craving for more. But I would have to wait. Time was always against me. I had to wait for everything. Wait for the pills and wait to escape. In the mean time I pondered what life on Argon 7 might be like. I had six more days before Fletcher's escape plan was put into action, and I was looking forward to finally putting my back to this prison and never having to look at _it_, or the Grand Councilwoman's icy green eyes again.

* * *

**Alius111: **I'm very sorry to disappoint the people who were hoping for Jumba, but Fletcher is absolutely essential to the plot of the story. Without him there could be no story. In the next few chapters things will really start to pick up, the plot is finally moving forward and there's going to be some action coming up. But until then. Please Review. 


	8. The Breakout

**Alius111: Sorry for the late chapter, but for some reason my computer stopped working, so I had to get a new one, and unfortunately not all of us have the finances to buy a new computer whenever one feels the need. But now, I have a shiny, new computer and I'm back writing again. In this chapter, Fletcher's big escape plan will be put into action but everything might not turn out according to plan, also, how about a little insight into Fletcher's past. But I'm sure you want to read it for yourself. So, without further delay, ****here is the next installment in Simon's Experiment II. **

* * *

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter 8**

**The Breakout**

_Six days later. . ._

"You married?"

"What?" The question had come from nowhere. I was laying comfortably on my bed, staring up at the barren ceiling, lost in thought; when suddenly Fletcher asked me if I was married. I looked down at him and shook my head, "No," I said, "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Just wonderin'. . . bin thinkin' a lot bowt my bitch of an ex wife–you know . . . the one who gave me this," He lifted a muscular finger and pointed to the metal plate fused to his face; then he sighed and dropped his head. "You should of seen her when I first met 'er. Yer nuts would've hit the floor. She was the one I tell ya. First time I met her I knew–God Damn! That I was gonna marry her."

I stayed silent. I thought it was best to let him get this off his chest. To me it sounded like it had been eating him up for some time. But why he was confessing this to me–I had no idea. Sure, we created some sort of crude relationship between us; I suppose you could call it friendship. But I barely knew the man. Why was he telling me this?

"Things were goin' good at first," Fletcher continued, he removed a long cigar from his pocket and lit it with a match. He Sighed and took a long puff and continued his story. "But then she ran off . . . with some fat ass of a scientist."

My head shot up. "Scientist?" I asked.

He looked up at me curiously, and blew a whiff of smoke into the air. "Yup, some federation bitch who thought he was king shit of the fucking universe."

I nodded, now genuinely curios. "What happened next," I asked.

He frowned and looked up at the ceiling. "After she don an ran off with that bastard–she went and married 'em! Can you fucking believe it!?"

I shook my head.

"Anyway," Fletcher said, munching on the end of the cigar. "After she married him–MAN OH MAN, did she ever let herself go. I mean she got fat, fat! FAT! And always with the surgery's–and the face lifts and a whole bunch of other crap that only a scum sucking federation rat like the fucker she married could afford–and he let her do it!"

"Do you remember his name?" I asked.

Angrily he shook his head. "Na, but if I did I would of put a god damn stick up his ass and spun 'em til he caught fire!"

I cringed at the mental image that inevitably fallowed.

"Anyway, eventually the cunt divorced the shitter and came a cryin' back to me, sayin' how wrong she was fer leavin' me; course I took her back an married her . . . just like I wanted–even though she was fat as a house and fuckin' ass ugly. Surgery didn't do 'er much good. Hell, she was beautiful before all of that shit; a fuckin' bombshell! And not only that. She was a real tom cat in the saddle if ya get my drift. She did this this with her tongue that–"

"Thank you Fletcher," I said, cutting him off. "Keep the details to yourself."

He laughed and smacked himself on the knee. "Alright. Things pretty much went down hill after we got hitched. We were always on again an off again; an always fightin'. I never hit her though. Never laid a fuckin' finger on the whore . . . till she took out my eye while I was sleepin.' Then I cut her ugly face up into confetti. And the rest"–He reached up and touched the metal plate–"Is history."

"What a depressing story," I said, a little uneasily.

He nodded. "Don't I know it."

An uneasy silenced came between us. It was a very uncomfortable moment–like when your caught up in some awkward public situation and your silently begging someone to come along break the silence. Finally after what seemed like an eternity; the inept silence was broken by Fletcher as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver flask.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

He winked. "Smuggled it in."

I inclined my head. "How?"

"You don't want to know." He chuckled and took a long swig from the flask. When he was finished he smacked his lips and offered me some.

Giving the flask a distrustful look, I shook my head. "No thanks," I said warily. "I don't drink."

"Ah come on," Fletcher said, thrusting the flask into my open hand. "It'll put hair on yer chest."

I looked down at the tarnished surface of the flask clutched tightly in my small, furry hand and shrugged. "Oh what the hell. I suppose one small sip couldn't hurt." I gave the silver container a shaky swivel, and I put the opening to my lips and gulped down a large mouthful of a scorching hot liquid. The moment the sizzling liquid touched the the lining of my esophagus; I clutched my throat and began coughing and gagging.

Fletcher laughed and began clapping me on the back. "Good stuff, eh?"

"Good God," I gasped. "What the hell is this?"

Again Fletcher laughed. He took the flask from my shaking hand and helped himself to another swig of the flask's vile contents. Once he had drained the flask, he threw it over his shoulder. "One part starship fuel, "He said. "One part oil, and I'm not sure what the other stuff is, but one time my buddy Callas drunk a whole fuckin' bottle of it, and he went fuckin' _blind_!"

I gulped and massaged by burning throat.

"Hey," Fletcher announced. "Did I ever tell ya bowt the time I got piss drunk and hijacked a federation class war ship and–"

"Navigated it through an asteroid field?" I finished. "Yes, twice."

He nodded. "Oh, okay . . . So what about you?" Fletcher inquired. "You got any interestin' stories?"

I thought it over and searched my memories. "Well," I said. "There was this one time this homosexual man thought my brother Elvis was a poodle. He wanted to buy him, but Nani wouldn't budge. Too bad, it would have been amusing to see him tied up in pink bows."

Fletcher's head shot up. "What did you say?"

"Pink bows?"

"Na, that thing there bowt the gay man."

I shot him a confused look. "Yes, a homosexual man. There's a lot of them where I come from."

Fletcher shuddered and shook his head. "That's dangerous words right there. Better hope the G-C-W Doesn't find out bowt that."

"What do you mean?"

Amazed, he looked up at me from his spot on the floor, all three of his eye giving off that strange appraising look. "The Grand Councilwomen has made bein' a gay or a lesbian illegal. Says it's not the way of things."

"What?"I said, taken a back. "But that's ridiculous."

Fletcher nodded in agreement. "Don't I know it. It was a real tough break for my brother Flacid. He an his partner were hauled off to the big house with a bunch of other gays and–"He paused for a moment before finally finishing his sentence. But when he did his voice was shaky and uneasy. "And was executed by firing squad three days later," He said sadly.

I shook my head in disgust. "This is ludicrous. She can't do this."

"Do what," Fletcher asked.

"THIS!" I yelled. "Any of this. She doesn't have the authority to legislate any new laws without a vote from the galactic council. I've seen her do things that are. . . well, that are _impossible_ for a politician, even in her position. She sent a perfectly innocent women to prison who's only crime was helping me. Why doesn't the council do something? Vote her out of office–or impeach her. . .anything! She has no control without their cooperation."

Fletcher chuckled. "That's real cute, Kid. But Councilmen who disagree with the Grand Councilwoman have a habit of . . . _Disappearing, _if ya get my meaning."

"You don't mean . . . she kills them? That's murder–even worse. That's assassinating a government official."

Looking satisfied, Fletcher smiled. "Looks like yer finally understandin' the pile of shit we're in. The council can't do nothin' Kid. She's got 'em wrapped around her finger. Think of it like this: if you were a federation stooge, an the G-C-W wanted to pass a law fer a galaxy wide curfew. Would ya vote no if ya knew yer kids an family would get the shaft?"

I slammed my fist against the wall. "This is isn't right." I said angrily.

Fletcher shrugged. "Well that's life Kid. Get used to it. No matter what ya think is right or wrong. Yer always goin' to be the one who gets screwed over. Grand Councilwoman makes the laws now kid. The council got exactly what they asked for. A strong leader who would take action."

"She can't keep this dictatorship going forever. Eventually, her period in office will expire."

Fletcher smiled and shook his head. "Na, she rewrote the Galactic Constitution some time ago. Got it approved by the council an everythin'. Trust me Kid, that fiery bitch ain't goin' nowhere."

"Well, then there's only one solution." I said. Fletcher crossed his arms and smiled, almost as if he knew exactly what I was going to say.

"Really?" He asked. "Do tell."

"Someone has to kill her."

Fletcher chuckled darkly. "That's just what I wanted to hear." He winked and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote control. Smiling, Fletcher pushed a large red button in the remotes center and put it to his lips. "Alright. Come on in," he whispered.

Just then the cell door slid opened with a hiss of air and in stepped a tall, muscular man, wearing a prison guard uniform. To me it couldn't be anymore obvious that this man didn't work at the prison. But perhaps to someone else. . .maybe if they only got a quick look at him; he might pass as a guard. I hadn't the faintest idea where he came from, or how long he was waiting outside our cell He must have been standing out there, waiting on a hover-platform for Fletcher's signal. I didn't recognize the man. But Fletcher seemed to know him very well.

"Hyde! You son of a bitch." Fletcher climbed to his feet and shook the man's hand. "What the fuck kept ya?"

The Man, who's face I couldn't see due to the helmet he wore bowed his head in respect. "My sincerest apologies Sir, I was delayed. The man from who I stole this uniform took an inconvenient amount of time to die."

Fletcher laughed and patted him on the back. "No worries. You got the stuff?"

The man nodded. "Affirmative. I had a no trouble smuggling the package past the warden. That man is a fool in his own right."

"Good. Where is it?"

The man reached down to his utility belt and unfastened a large black bag and presented it to Fletcher. Fletcher clapped his hands and relived the man of his burden.

"Who's this?"

I looked up for the question had been directed at me. The uniformed man looked directly at me as Fletcher rummaged around in the black bag, obviously searching for something.

"Oh him?" Fletcher asked, nodding in my direction. "That's uh. . .

"Simon," I said.

Fletcher nodded. "Right. Kid this is Hyde. He's my second in command. Hyde, that little bastard is goin' to be our new science officer."

The man called Hyde walked towards me and leaned forward until our faces were inches apart. A strange clicking noise sounded from behind the helmet's tinted face guard and he sniffed.

"Far be it for me to question your leadership Sir," The man said, "But are you sure the boy has the qualifications for such a vital position in our little . . . _family_?"

"Fuck," Fletcher cursed. "The Kid can add more than two numbers in his head, that's good enough fer me."

Hyde bowed his head. "Of course Sir."

"Ah here it is!" Fletcher announced. He extracted a large plasma cannon custom built to fit his massive hand from the bag and held it up to his eyes. "Old painless," He said fondly. Laughing he reached into the bag and tossed me a smaller gun which I caught as it flew towards me. "You know how to use one of those?" Fletcher asked, his voice full of amusement.

Emotionless, I stared down at the lifeless metal clutched in my hand. I could feel its weight and the icy cold of its steel casing. My hand tightened around the handle.

_"RUN! CALL THE POLICE!" _

_"STITCH, SORRY."_

_"MOM HELP!"_

_"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"_

_"I'M GONNA HUNT ME SOME VERMIN!"_

_"DIE!"_

I shuddered. "Yes, I know how to use one of these."

Fletcher smiled and loaded his gun. "Good, Now how far away is my chariot?"

The man in the prison guard uniform bowed his head. "Mere parsecs away Sir. I shall wait at the rendezvous point, and when they finally arrive, Leroy will disable the power grid and before you know it; you will be back on Argon 7 drinking yourself stupid yet again."

"Amen to that!" Fletcher bellowed. "That's what keeps me goin'.

Hyde chortled. "Now that everything is as it should be. I must be on my way. By your leave Sir." Looking at me one last time, the man bowed his head and left the cell. Once the cell door closed and Hyde descended on the hover platform, Fletcher took his plasma cannon and the one he tossed me and stowed them underneath my mattress.

"Now what?" I asked.

Fletcher yawned, cracked his neck, and sat on the floor. "Now. . .we wait."

XXXX

For what seemed like hours, I lay on my bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, anticipation and nervousness building up in my chest like an expanding bubble. The reality of what I was about to attempt finally hit me with mercilessly real and vivid force. I was about to attempt a breakout out of a maximum security prison. More than likely, I was going to have to kill someone. That's what the gun hidden under my mattress was for. But the question was. . .could I do it? Could I willingly and consciously take another life for personnel gain? Yes, I suppose I would have to. Before all of this, the thought of killing another living thing might of caused me some distress, but not now; not anymore. Does that make me a bad person? Yes, I guess it does. Oh well, in situations like this there's no room to be nice. Besides, I already had blood on my hands; what was a little bit more? Of course, there was always the chance that _I_ would be killed. Killed like so many others before me who–like me–desperately wanted to escape form their imprisonment. Hopefully I would succeed where they all failed. I did have a few advantages on my side. . .

"It's almost time," Fletcher said. "You ready?"

I reached under my mattress and pulled out my plasma cannon. "Yes," I told him.

Fletcher nodded. "Okay, few words of advice Kid: Shoot to kill, run like hell, and don't look back."

"A-alright." I stammered. I could barely contain myself. There was no way I could do this. I felt like I was about to burst at any moment. Oh God, I needed my pills. My body and mind craved them. The weight of the plasma cannon felt unfamiliar in my hand. But despite my nervousness I had to calm myself. The task at hand would require all of my concentration.

Suddenly Fletcher cracked his knuckles and switched his plasma cannon's safety switch to off. "Alright," he said. "It doesn't get much more real than this Kid. Leroy should be cuttin' the power any time now. Remember what I told ya: Don't look back and don't stop."

"I'll remember," I said.

Just then a loud screeching like the sound of tearing metal shook the prison block. Nervously I looked around for the source The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere. I could feel the floor vibrating underneath my feet. My heart started hammering in my chest. Fletcher looked completely calm.

"This is it," He said. "Once the power goes off; my boys got ten minutes to get the fuck in here and get us the hell out before the emergency grid is activated." The vibrating beneath my feet increased in velocity and the lights began to flicker. "They're gonna know somethin's up, so get ready."

I nodded and tightened my grip on the plasma cannon.

"Okay," Fletcher announced. Large beads of sweat began dripping down his brow. "Three. . .two. . .one. . .NOW!"

Suddenly, in what seemed like mere seconds. The whole prison seemed to lurch forward as everything went black. A loud explosion rattled the reinforced walls, and Fletcher and I were both thrown off our feet.

"Fuck!" Fletcher cursed. "THIS IS IT KID, LET'S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" Quickly Fletcher jumped to his feet, and aiming his plasma cannon, he fired and shattered the cell door which exploded into a deadly rain of thick shards. Before I could even tack a breath, Fletcher grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and hurled himself out through the broken barrier.

Wind whipped past my ears as Fletcher lunged from our cell and plummeted towards the distant floor which lay miles away. Thick, translucent shards of glass rained down underneath us and the doors of countless cells zipped past us in a obscure blur. It all seemed to happen so fast. The drop was so far. If something didn't catch us: this escape plan was going to come to an abrupt end before it even began. Suddenly a solid platform was underneath us and I landed with a painful thud on cold metal. The timing was perfect. Moments before Fletcher and I struck the floor; a large, muscular hand had grabbed Fletcher's arm and heaved him onto a remote operated, hovering platform.

I heaved a sigh of relief as I sat up and watched as the prison block zipped past us. Four other men were occupying the platform. Two I immediately recognized as Leroy and Hyde, both heavily armed and firing balls of concentrated plasma in every direction; the other two I didn't know. A thin, lanky man wearing a black uniform and a helmet sporting a long antennae was standing at the head of the platform; held in his hand was a remote control which he seemed to be using to pilot the hover platform. The other man, who was very thin and had a very feminine figure was wearing a skin tight uniform made out of black leather and had very long, tentacle like hair that whipped and lashed wildly in the wind. It was then that I realized that he was in fact a she. For an instant I thought I was looking at Dr. Ira, but this female had a more sexual air about her and instead of a light shade of purple; this female's skin was a very cold blue. Yelling and cursing, she fired at remote piloted defense ships as they flew after us, their Gatling gun like cannons firing hundreds of lasers per second.

"Where not out of this yet kid!" Fletcher bellowed as he shot at our pursuers. "SHOOT THE FUCKERS!"

Nodding, I turned around and pointed my plasma cannon at the ships, but before I could fire a shot, one of the ship's lasers rang true and hit the base of the platform. A loud explosion tore through the platform and for a moment I could feel the scorching fingers of the fire singe my fur before we were all sent hurtling to the floor.

I struck the hard, metal surface with excruciating force. The whole world seemed to spin around me as I rolled along the ground, my plasma cannon flew from my fist and I crashed painfully into a cell door. For a moment I lay there, confused and disoriented as a prisoner gawked at me from the other side of the glass barrier. Suddenly four tiny red fists grabbed my shoulders and lifted me onto my feet.

"Nala Queesta!" Leroy cursed as he thrust a plasma cannon into my hand.

For a moment I swayed dumbly in place before finally coming to my senses. The others were already ahead of me and Leroy had taken off.

"Get yer ass in gear Kid!" Fletcher yelled back at me.

I nodded and quickly ran after them. Back when I was living on Earth and in perfect health, I was an excellent runner. I had a lot of practice running from my brothers. But all the time I spent wasting away in my cell had left my body weak and frail. I had only managed to run a few feet and already I felt like I was out of breath. And of course. Just as I caught up to Fletcher and his boys; my arthritis decided to join the fun. It wasn't that bad. Nowhere near immobilizing, but still an annoyance.

"HALT!"

I looked behind me to see an entire fleet of Federation Soldiers hot on our trail. I could barely make them out because it was so dark, but I could see the glowing balls of deadly plasma they were shooting blindly towards us. One of the ardent blasts zipped past my head, lightly singeing my ear. I growled and pointed my plasma cannon over my shoulder. I fired and one of the soldiers dropped to the ground.

"Nice shootin' Kid!" Fletcher gasped as he shot down four more soldiers. "We're not out of this yet! Keep on runnin'!"

The prison block flew past us and my throbbing legs screamed for me to stop. But I couldn't. If I did the it was all over. Physically I may be the weakest of my species but mentally I'm the strongest. That might not be the best tool in this type of situation, but I'll be damned if I was going to let myself get captured after coming so far and after enduring so much.

The massive cathedral shaped door that marked the end of the prison block ca,e into view and stood situated before us, towering stories above our heads. Beyond was a few corridors, then the hangars where no doubt their ship would be. And thank whatever God, the door was wide open. But we didn't have much time. Once the emergency power was activated; that door would close and we would be sealed inside the prison block with nowhere to run.

Fletcher came to an abrupt stop at the base of the massive door and motioned everyone through. "Let's go! Let's go! Everyone out!" He shouted.

I was just about to run through the threshold, when suddenly, a small steel ball flew passed me and landed at Fletcher's feet.

Fletcher's eyes widened. "GRENADE!" With a mighty heave, Fletcher jumped onto the other side of the door just as the grenade exploded into a towering wall of flames. A massive wave of heat washed over me, singeing my fur and throwing me to the ground.

Moaning quietly, I opened my eyes and I froze. The cell block was now alight with the raging orange glow of the fire. Giant tongues of flame licked at the the air, completely blocking my escape. From the other side of the inferno I could hear Fletcher shouting. I knew I should be doing something. The federation soldiers were quickly gaining and I was a sitting duck. But I did nothing. I just sat there, staring horrified at the hellish wall of fire, my heart pounding and my breath still. After all this time . . . I couldn't believe it. I was still afraid of fire. The very sight of such a large flame sent me into a catatonic state. I couldn't move. . .I couldn't breath. And that became my undoing.

Suddenly a black shape appeared in the fire. For one terrifying instant I thought it was the Black Experiment coming to finally finish me off. But it wasn't. It was Leroy. Slowly he was making his way through the fire. The searing hot flames having absolutely no effect on his fire-proof skin. He was coming back for me. But a minute too late. Because just before he could clear the maw of the raging inferno; the lights came to life and the massive cathedral shaped door slammed shut, permanently cutting me off from Leroy, and my escape.

The events that fallowed were a blur. Pain exploded from the back of my head as I was struck by something hard and blunt. Crying out, I was sent sprawling to the floor and tight metal handcuffs were fastened around my wrists.

"Your in big trouble now Trog," One of the guards said. "Your going to see the Grand Councilwomen. Take him out."

Just then a guard stepped forward and bashed the side of my jaw with the end of his plasma rifle. Blood spewed from my mouth and for a moment all I knew was pain. My last waking thought before I was lost lost to darkness was: _I have failed. . .I'm going to die here. _Then another blow to the head and everything went black.

* * *

**Alius111: Well, I feel pretty good about this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it. And don't worry, the next chapter won't take nearly as long to post. I know Simon didn't escape yet, but I promise it will happen in the next. . .Oh, I say around the next few chapters. There's just a few thing I need to get out of the way so I can set the plot into motion and then he's getting the hell out of there. But until then. Please Review.**


	9. Checkmate

**Alius111: Here is another chapter. I'm hoping to get back on schedule and write a chapter every week instead of every two weeks. But, sometimes things don't go the way we plan. Now, I don't really feel right about this chapter. I know things might seem a little boring, but bear with me. Things will be getting much more exciting.**

* * *

**Simon's Experiment's II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Nine**

**Checkmate**

When I came to, I was nearly blinded by blaring white light. I tried to turn away but some kind of metal brace held my head and wrists securely in place. I let out a small moan. I could taste blood in my mouth; the back of my head throbbed painfully. I felt like I had been hit by a freight train. A feeling I had grown accustomed to over time.

_Where am I? _I thought groggily. There's something about waking up in a strange room with a spotlight practically burning out your retinas that tends to make you a little confused.

Suddenly someone coughed and I looked up, but could see nothing. The nearly blinding light kept me from determining anything beyond it. I could just barely make out the foggy outline of shadows and shapes moving on the other side of the light. I struggled in vain against my restraints. They wouldn't budge. I was sitting upright in a meal chair. Two shackles held my hands to the armrests, and two metal slates protruding from the backrest held my head forward. I was rendered completely incapable of movement. Just then, a voice spoke:

"Prisoner 10100101. You have been brought here charged with conspiracy, murder, damage to federation property, and aspiring with enemy's of the galactic order."

Frantically I tried to locate the source of the voice, but the light, it was too bright.

"Her eminence has ordered you to be kept alive. If not for her leniency, you would already be dead. You have information we want, and the Grand Councilwoman wishes to interrogate you herself. You would be wise to show her some respect."

Just then the blinding light was switched off and the whole room came to life. For the first time I got a look at my surroundings. I was in a tiny, square shaped room, completely unfurnished save for the chair I was sitting in and the stainless steel table situated before me. I looked up, and there was the Grand Councilwoman, tall and plump as always, clothed in a black uniform, her right hand resting on the head of her cane, her icy green eyes penetrating me to my very soul. I could tell she wasn't pleased.

"You have managed to delayed my return to Planet Turo yet again, Trog." She said coldly, her emotionless face frowning down at me. "You are causing me far more grief than you are worth. I know you know the location of the man who calls himself Fletcher. And I know, you know I know. So let's not waste any time. Tell me where he is."

Frowning, I looked up at her and said: "I don't know. And even if I did . . . I wouldn't tell you."

The Grand Councilwoman nodded. "I expected as much. But I think you will reconsider." Slowly, she lifted her right hand and placed it on table. She was holding something in her fist. When she removed her hand she left behind a large metal cylinder capped with a white lid. It was a pill bottle. I could tell by the label printed on its side. "I'm sure you know what this is," The Grand Councilwoman said. "And it can be yours. Only if and when you tell me where those pirating scum have gone to."

I gulped and stared down at the pill bottle. It sat there peacefully, completely solitary and stationary on the table's sleek surface. It was like a monolith, protruding majestically from the desert floor. The thought of how many pills must be in that little cylinder made my heart race and my body sweat. But as much as I wanted those capsules; I couldn't betray Fletcher. The one thing he said that mattered to him was loyalty. And even though I only knew him for six days, I would never turn him in to this women.

I whimpered and closed my eyes.

"No." I said weakly.

"Really? Are you sure?" Frowning, the Grand Councilwoman reached forward and unscrewed the cap; with a light flick of her finger, she knocked over the bottle, spilling its contents all over the table.

At the sound of the thousands of minute clangs as the pills poured onto the table, I opened my eyes and stared in awe. I never thought that so many of those pills could fit in such a small cylinder. Just looking at the blood red capsules made me sweat. If it wasn't for the restraints binding me to the chair I would have lunged forward and gobbled them down before she even knew I left my chair.

"He abandoned you Simon," The Grand Councilwoman said in false sympathy–I vaguely noted her use of my surname–"Why do you protect someone who has left you behind to rot in prison while he runs free? I offer you the only thing left in this horrid world that gives you pleasure. What has he left you? _Nothing. _Think it over. Who's side are you on? Mine? Or _There's_?"

I could feel myself breaking. Her words combined with alluring capsules and the almost absolute certainty that Fletcher had left me behind; made her offer almost impossible to refuse. I couldn't stand the sight of those pills any longer. But I wouldn't submit. Not to her. I tried to shake my head. But the metal slates wouldn't release their hold on my skull. I was stuck. But I would make sure she knew how I felt concerning the matter.

"Wa-one day," I said wearily. "I'm going to make you pay for everything you've done to me."

She smiled. She _Actually_ smiled. If I didn't know better I would have thought her face might crack. "Is that so?" She said amusingly. "And how do you suppose that is going to come about?"

"With my claws in your neck," I growled.

"If your referring to spilling my blood. I must confess, I don't see that happening."

Violently I wrenched against my restraints. She didn't even flinch.

"Undo these shackles and let's see." I spat.

She frowned. "Tell me where he is."

"No."

Her hand tightened over the handle of her cane–the only evidence of her anger.

"Am I to understand that your family still resides on Earth?" She asked.

"Yes."

She smiled. "I thought so. Are you aware of the laws considering genetic experimentation?"

My face remained blank, but on the inside I began to feel nervous. "Yes, I am."

"Then I'm sure you are aware that your father and his caretakers are in blatant violation of that law. It would be a shame if something were to . . . _happen_ to them."

I growled. "Don't even try and threaten me with my family's safety. They are under federation protection, and that planet is a protected wildlife preserve."

"True enough," the Grand Councilwoman said, her voice was thick with repressed anger. "But...accidents can happen. They happen all the time. Quite tricky to predict as a matter of fact. And even if they somehow _manage_ to remain perfectly safe. I hate to sound like a broken record, but there is always the laws considering genetic experimentation–as I mentioned before. As a precaution, I could have your _father_ and every other male,_ castrated_–or perhaps _killed_ to prevent the spread of the species. After all, secrecy is the most important factor for your family's settlement on that planet. And there is less chance of them being discovered if the species cannot reproduce . . . even less chance if they're dead."

She was bluffing. I could tell. Not even she would try and pull a stunt like that. Eventually it would be traced back to her and she would have inquiries coming out the ass.

"I'm not telling you anything," I said defiantly. "The council wouldn't allow that to happen."

Angrily she pounded her cane on the floor but still held her composer. "Trog," She snapped. _"I am _the council. I am the federation. It is my way that is the way of the galaxy. I grow tired of your insolence. Now tell me where the traitor is hiding!"

"No."

She sighed. "Very well then. I have nothing more to say to you . . . Take him away."

XXXX

Two days have passed since I was interrogated by the Grand Councilwoman. My new cell was less than flattering. If possible, it looked even worse than my last one. They had to transfer me to a new prison block because Fletcher had blown the door off my last cell. Now I was stuck in a shoe box on the bottom level. I wasn't even in the red section anymore. Not that I was complaining, but it was a real step down. And if that wasn't bad enough; the worst part was they were no longer going to be administering my medication. Despite my initial anger and near hysterics; in retrospect I suppose it was the best thing for me. Eventually I was going to go through withdrawal. There would be a time where I would I wish I were dead. But like every other obstacle that was hurled into my path I would conquer it. This time I would not submit. I would best it, I would rise. I wasn't beaten yet. I might not of escaped with Fletcher and the rest of his group, but I still had something hidden up my sleeve: The idea I had come up with. Unfortunately, it would require outside help. I desperately hoped help would come . . . and eventually, it did.

It was meal time when salvation unexpectedly walked through the door. . .so to speak.

I lay on my bed, staring up at ceiling. No matter how much time I wasted staring up at the ceiling I never grew bored with it. If anything it was a way to occupy my time. I couldn't let myself feel bored. I had to have something to keep my mind busy. I couldn't risk going over the deep end again. I promised myself I would never again let myself break under the pressure. Never again. But little did I know: I wouldn't be staying in prison much longer. The Grand Councilwoman had been wrong, Fletcher didn't abandon me. In fact, even as she was interrogating me, Fletcher was organizing an infiltration of the prison to get me out. And it would begin that night, at lights out.

"ALL PRISONERS LIGHTS OUT!"

I sighed as the lights were killed and my cell went black. My meal had come, and glumly I had eaten my gruel. I still couldn't believe it. I had come so close. I was so close to finally escaping this hell hole and regaining my freedom. I felt lower than dirt. A few feet. That's how far I was from escaping. And the only thing that stopped me was some_ stupid_ childhood trauma. Why didn't I just leap through the fire? What's the worst that could've happened? What? A few burns? Scars and horrible disfigurement?

Who the hell am I kidding? Even if I could of jumped through that wall of fire, my fur fur would gone up like a fourth of July firecracker. Not only would I have been terribly injured, but I probably would've been bald and scarred for the rest of my life. . . and that's the last thing I need.

I groaned in frustration. "I was _so close_," I said to the darkness, and surprisingly the darkness answered back.

"Yes, but apparently not close enough,"

I yelled and jumped upright. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

There was a light chuckle. "That's quite a paradox you have concocted. Due to the present lack of illumination. I find presenting myself quite impossible. And unfortunately, unlike me, your ocular skills are pathetically limited."

Nervously I looked around. He was right. Whoever he was. I couldn't see through the velvety darkness that pressed in around me. Whoever this stranger was–he must have entered my cell when I wasn't paying attention. It was incredible, I didn't even hear him come in.

"Who are you?" I asked.

A loud clicking sound permeated the darkness. "Come now. Even though are last encounter–I am including our hasty introduction, was rather untraditional and abrupt. I would expect you to at least recognize my voice."

That's when it clicked "Hyde?"

"Your perceptiveness continues to serve you well."

I nodded and jumped off my bed. "How did you get in here? The prison is locked down at lights out?" I lifted my hands and began pawing through the dark, but I couldn't locate him. Either he was evading me or he wasn't even really there.

"Oh," he whispered coyly. "I have my own . . . _subtle _ways. Unfortunately the circumstances in which I entered the prison prevent me from taking you along with me when I make my grand exit. So, we will have to occupy our time together by coming up with another method to extract you from the rather messy predicament you have found yourself in."

Vigorously I snatched at the area his voice had come from but my hand found only air. I was staring to feel like a blind man wildly searching for his walking stick.

"You like to hear yourself talk don't you?" I asked, swiping my hand through the air.

Hyde clicked again. "It would seem so. But we are not here to discuss my methods of verbal communication and the reason behind them. We are here to come up with a safe and sufficient way to spring you from this desolate cell. . . Now have a seat."

Without warning two powerful hands grabbed me under my arms lifted me onto my bed.

"Now," He said, once I was seated comfortably on the edge of the mattress. "Have you any suggestions?"

Suggestions? Of course I did. Now that I would have his help. My own escape plan seemed suddenly possible.

"I still can't believe you came back for me," I said, shacking my head in disbelief. "I expected Fletcher to leave me here to rot."

Again that strange clicking sound, I don't know why but it sounded defensive. "Fletcher is nowhere near an honorable man," Hyde told me. "But he would never leave one of his own behind to rot in prison. You are apart of our family now. We look out for each other. Take that into consideration next time one of your brethren is left in harm's way."

I nodded. "I will, and I won't forget this."

A hand appeared out of the darkness and patted me on the back. "See to it that you don't . . . Now. Back to the matter at hand–have you any ideas on how to bring about your escape? We for one are completely out of ideas. We cannot use the previous plan in which we used to aid Fletcher. At this point in time, extracting you from this prison seems near impossible . . . Have you any ideas?"

I thought it over for a moment before finally expressing my plan: "Yes, I do."

"Excellent. Express to me your ingenious, and hopefully both helpful _and_ possible scheme in a manner of your own vocal expression."

I nodded and brought all the details of my plan to the forefront of my mind. I had been over it again and again, constantly running the scheme through my head, and it seemed like it could work.

"Alright Hyde. Listen very carefully. I thought this through very clearly, and I now it's the only way. . . . this is my plan–"

It may have taken an hour, but when I finally finished explaining my 'plan' in _excruciating_ detail, Hyde seemed convinced that it was possible. At first he had some doubts but eventually I brought him around to considering it as a probability. And that was good enough for me.

"This intricate organization of ideas you have come up with, may due well to serve our purpose." Even though I couldn't see him, Hyde sounded pleased. "Your verbiage does well to hide your intelligence."

"Well," I said. This time it was my turn to be coy. "People on my planet find it annoying when I use big words."

"That is the perils one must face when gifted with genius. Isolation, and social discrepancy." Hyde made a clicking sound and a moment later I heard my cell door open. "Wait for the signal," He announced. "You will recognize it when you see it. When the signal has been revealed to you, make your escape."

"I'll be on the lookout." I replied, lying down on my bed. "If everything goes as planned the signal should practically jump out at me."

I was answered by a deathly silence. Hyde was gone. Gone just as quickly and quietly as he came; he almost seemed to vanish into thin air. I was alone again. The only thing I could do now. . . was wait.

XXXX

Four days passed and still no signal from Fletcher. I was beginning to lose hope. Although I should have been concentrating on my escape. Something else kept bugging me: It was my interrogation by the Grand Councilwoman. I didn't like it. I got off too easy. It wasn't like her. Something told me she wasn't through with me. Thinking of whatever fresh horrors she may have in store for me kept me tossing and turning all night. I didn't like just waiting for something to happen. If she was going to do something I wish she would just do it. . . .But wait. What if she's not planning anything? What if she's just making me think she is? What if she's trying to get me paranoid? What if she goes weeks without doing anything but all the while dropping subtle hints that she might do something but in the long run she's actually doing nothing?! What if she won't stop until I go . . . completely insane? Again. No, I wouldn't let that happen. I refused to play her little mind game. If there even was a game to play. In my paranoia I could be making this all up myself; just constantly feeding my own paranoid thoughts until I'm expecting her to appear around every corner.

In times like this, I would think about home. By my calculations it would be Friday on Earth . . . around 8:30 PM. By now the family would be sitting on the Sofa with their eyes glued to the television. Probably watching some old movie. I'm sure Nani would have made some of her alien themed snacks for family fun time. At the thought of all of them just laughing and enjoying each others company, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of yearning. I wanted to be at home, eating alien themed snacks. They were never that good. But I would always say they were delicious so I wouldn't hurt Nani's feelings; she always worked so hard.

A hateful sadness suddenly came over me.

"I miss them," I sighed. It was true, I did miss them. Everyone of them . . . Well, maybe not Elvis. I thought about them often. Did they miss me? Did they ever think about me?

_I wonder what my father would think if he found out I joined a criminal organization, _I thought with whimsical amusement. But my joy didn't last. I felt terribly homesick. Then again, I've been feeling homesick ever since I got here, and when your in a place like this, that feeling never seems to go away.

Just then, I was pulled from my thoughts as my cell door opened and someone I hadn't seen for quite a while stepped in: It was the Warden.

Coldly, I looked over to where he stood and growled. He jumped slightly and took a few tentative steps towards the exit.

"E-evening, 10100101," He stammered as he tugged nervously on his collar. "I am here to collect you."

I narrowed my eyes and jumped off my bed. He shrieked a little and backed away from me like I was carrying some infectious decease. I flexed my claws and casually picked at my teeth. His eyes widened at the sight of my razor sharp fingers. Of course I would never do anything to hurt him; at least not without serious consequences. I just liked to see him squirm.

"Collect me?" I asked. "What do you mean . . . _collect_?"

Nervously he fidgeted with the buttons on his uniform. It was strange: I didn't remember him being so jumpy.

"Um–well, I–I–I–I . . . That is, _she_, the Grand Councilwoman. Would–would–like to meet with you."

I scoffed. "You mean she wants to interrogate me."

Fervently he shook his head. "No–no," He shuddered. "A-a meeting. Just a friendly meeting." When he finished he let out a large sigh of relief and began wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief he extracted from his pocket.

Now a little intrigued, I approached the Warden, crossing my arms behind my back.

"Friendly?" I asked curiously. "A friendly meeting? That doesn't sound like her. She must want something from me. What does she want?"

All color drained from the Warden's face, and his eye widened. He almost seemed on the verge of tears. "I–I–I–I–I'm not at liberty to say."

I nodded. "Fair enough." I reached forward and patted the Warden on the shoulder. I could feel every muscle in his body tense at my touch. That wasn't right. Before if I even came within a foot of his personnel space he would have shouted for the guards. But now, here I am coming in physical contact with him . . . and nothing . . .Why? That's when it occurred to me . . . He had been ordered not to harm me. I was right. The Grand Councilwoman did want something from me. And she must want it very much if it constitutes this sort of . . . _special_ treatment.

"Alright," I said to the shacking Warden. "I will meet with the Grand Councilwoman."

At this, the Warden sighed and relaxed. All of his previous nervousness seemed to disappear, and was replaced with sturdy self confidence.

"Thank goodness," He said. "Guards, restrain him."

At his command two armed guard stepped in and bound my hands in shackles. The warden double checked my restraint and nodded his approval. Then we were stepping out of my cell and marching steadily down the prison block.

I didn't even put up a fight. Not just because I didn't want another blow to the head, but because I was curios. What could the Grand Councilwoman possibly want from me that would justify how gently they were treating me. Even as I was cuffed I noticed how careful the guard had been not to bend my wrist. A liberty I wouldn't of expected before. This whole situation stank of conspiracy. She wanted something . . . but what?

XXXX

The room in which I would be meeting the grand Councilwoman in only deepened my resolve that something big was about to occur. Instead of a plain, desolate room with rusty metal and bad lighting. This room, although small, was mush more cheery and had a lighthearted feel to it.

I was placed in a comfortable chair in front of a polished metal table. And on the table I noticed was a small tray of assorted pastry's. My mouth began to water. I spotted a few chocolate éclairs, and a dozen glazed donuts accompanied by rolls spread with fresh butter. It smelt heavenly. It had been so long since I had seen food such as this. Just looking at them, I could feel my stomach shrinking and angrily churning. I was so hungry.

"Please, help yourself."

I looked to my right to see the Grand Councilwomen enter the room. Even she seemed different. The cold and emotionless look that usually accented her features was gone. Her eyes even seemed to melt a little. She actually seemed cheery. Gone was that cold, military leader. Now a happy lighthearted person had taken her place. It made me nervous. All of it. She was trying to lure me into a false sense of security.

"What is all this?" I asked.

Cheerfully, but still not smiling, she sat herself in the chair opposite me and had the guards remove my shackles.

"Please eat," She said sliding the plate of pastry's across the table. "You must be famished."

Suspiciously I looked down at the assortment of donuts and éclairs, and shook my head.

"No thank you," I said coldly.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. They are there if you change your mind."

"What do you want?" I growled. "You want something from me, what is it?"

"Tut, tut, Such hostility," She said sadly. "I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

I gaped at her. "Wrong foot? You tried to have me killed."

She nodded and continued as if she hadn't heard my accusation. "Until now, I have been mildly satisfied with the weapons you have so graciously designed for me, and I assure you, they have been used for the good of the federation and all of its people. Many free citizens have been able to sleep soundly because of your benevolence and genius."

_Benevolence? Genius? Where is she going with this_, I thought suspiciously.

"For the year prior," She continued with the coolness of someone who had spent hours rehearsing. "I believed I had a good idea of your potential and your limitations. But now." She reached under the table and pulled out a large folder, which she placed in front her. "I see that I have been terribly ignorant of your abilities."

"What's that?" I asked, looking down at the folder.

She smiled. "First of all, I must confess that I am deeply impressed by your ingenuity." Lightly she traced her finger along the edge of the folder. "I had no idea that you were capable of creating something such as this. Bravo."

I inclined my head, and stared inquisitively at the folder. "Created? Created what?"

"It's funny," The Grand Councilwoman said, gently caressing the folder with her fingers. "I've spent so much time here, I've actually seen more of you than my own husband."

My eyes widened and the question as to the mysterious contents of the folder was thrown temporarily from my mind.

"I'm shocked," I said in amazement.

She quirked an eye ridge. "What? Your shocked that women would ever put work before her marital life?

I shook my head. "No, I'm shocked that someone would ever marry you."

She chuckled lightly, but I couldn't help but notice the spark of anger that flared in her icy green eyes. I could see it. This was all an act. This false visage of cheerfulness and warmth she was wearing was only hiding her true self. It was like a endless blue sky concealing a raging storm that waited patiently on the horizon. She wasn't fooling anyone.

"Oh you wicked, wicked man," The Grand Councilwoman said lightly. "What a delightful wit you have, all the more reason for you to be excited."

"Excited?" I asked suspiciously. "Why should I be excited?"

She smiled and clasped her hands together. "You should be excited because I am willing to offer you a transfer to a minimum security prison on a wonderful planet in the 507th Quadrant. And while you live out the remainder of your life sentence you will live in luxury in a furnished cell, with reasonable access to books and a computer terminal, also, any food of your choosing."

I narrowed my eyes. "It sounds too good to be true. Experience has taught me when something is too good to be true it usually is."

She smiled and nodded.

"You haven't even heard the best part yet," She told me with an almost childish glee that still sounded forced. "The prison is surrounded by a beautiful forest and has a wonderful beach nearby. And for three days of the week, you will be allowed out of your cell to explore the wilderness for up to five hours. And during those five hours you will be able to do whatever your heart desires. You may take a hike in the woods, you may swim in the ocean, or you can find a shady spot and read a book if that is what you wish. Sounds like heaven when compared to this dreary place I imagine."

I crossed my arms and stared into her icy green depths that still depicted her naturally cold demeanor.

"This all sounds lovely," I said sarcastically. "But I'm sure such an offer comes with a price. In fact, I've noticed that you have been careful not to even mention the cost of this transfer. It's almost as if you're trying to build up all of these positive images of beaches and wilderness so when I finally hear the price it will seem insignificant when compared to this paradise."

She remained strangely silent before finally continuing. But when she did her voice was firm and hostile.

"Very well," She announced in her usual resounding tone. "All I want in exchange for this transfer, is this." Quickly, the Grand Councilwoman opened the folder and slid it across the table.

Curiously, I pushed the plate of pastry's aside and lifted the folder up to my face. My eyes speedily skimmed through the documents that lay inside and my eyes widened.

For a moment I was still. In disbelief, I looked over the top of the folder at the Grand Councilwoman's still form. I was at a loss for words. How could she have gotten this? When I finally found my voice I had only one question to ask:

"Where did you get this?" I asked astounded.

She smiled and leaned forward so the light casted dark shadow over her face. "This document only came into my possession very recently. My sources–which I will keep to myself. Were able to retrieve it. When I first laid yes upon it, I could barely believe what I was seeing. But that's about the time I realized what an incredible opportunity had been dropped into my lap. With the contents of that folder, I realized I could destroy my enemy's and restore order to the federation. And the only way I can get what I seek, is through you. It's almost poetic."

Silently, I gaped down at the folder as if I hadn't heard a word she said. This is impossible. I couldn't give this to her. How could she have gotten this?

Amazed I looked up at the Grand Councilwoman. She seemed so calm, so sure of herself. "You want my experiment," I said blankly.

"Indeed," She replied. "Experiment O, is an _amazing_ creature. And only you could have created something so . . . _powerful_."

"So," I said staring down at a picture of my experiment. "The federation is above creating genetic experiments, but your not above using them."

She stiffened. It seemed I had struck. The unnatural cheerfulness she was exhibiting before was slowly disappearing with each word she spoke.

"It would be for the good of the federation." The Grand Councilwoman said adamantly.

"For the good of the federation," I repeated. "First of all, let me make it perfectly clear, I think you are full of _shit_. And second, I want you to know–" I land forward and pushed the folder to her side of the table–"I will _never_ hand over my experiment to you. And nothing–that's including your offer. Is going to change that."

Mush to my surprise, she didn't seem angry. Actually it didn't seem like my response had affected her at all. It was almost as if the Grand Councilwoman had been expecting my answer. Instead of flying into a rage;She merely sighed and stood from her chair.

"If that is your decision," The false cheerfulness had returned and now she was walking towards the door. "I will give you one day to think it over. Perhaps once you have had enough time alone with your thoughts you may reconsider. After all, a lot can change in twenty four hours. Especially one's perspective." And with that, she left the room and the guards proceeded to bind my hands and escorted me back to my cell.

At last her true motive had been revealed to me. And it couldn't be more perfect. I may have gotten of easy–a fact that still troubled me–but something told me she wasn't through with me just yet. Hopefully she wouldn't go around me to get my experiment; that wouldn't do at all. But at least her plot was staring to unravel and in the fallowing days, I expected to be seeing her again very soon. At least . . . I hoped.

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**Alius111: The next chapter should be posted in about a week. Please Review.**


	10. Vulnus, Feel As I Feel

**Alius111: I know usually wait a week to post a new chapter but yesterday I found myself with nothing to do and thought: What the hell. I'm mean come on, it was Sunday. Anyway, this chapter might be a little shorter than some of my last. But it was necessary. Read and Review.**

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**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Ten**

**Vulnus, Feel As I Feel**

Two lonesome days had flown by at an almost agonizingly slow pace. But despite the fact that there was nothing to do but stare vacantly at the wall; I somehow managed to keep myself busy. After all, a lot had happened in the past few days; enough to keep my mind occupied for a couple of hours at least. And I find when you concentrating on something of great importance, time seems to move much faster. Unfortunately I had exhausted every branch of thinking, and every possible method to determine the situation. At the moment my most pressing question was not how the Grand Councilwoman had learned of my Experiment O, and how she had gotten a hold of those documents for that matter. But when was Fletcher's signal going to appear. It had been six days and nothing. You would think I would be more concerned about how a fascist, tyrannical, politician had obtained top secret documents that nobody knew existed, but I wasn't. It didn't matter to how she had come to posses them; even if I could figure it out, (I had some theories) would knowing how she had gotten a file on Experiment O really help me in my current situation? No. What I should be worrying about is the escape plan, and once that was out of the way, I could fret about the details afterwards.

Yesterday I had another 'meeting' with the Grand Councilwoman, and I had told her the same thing: there was no chance in Hell that I was ever going to hand my Experiment over to her. And just like before, she didn't seem angry. She merely smiled and dismissed me. Now I was beginning to worry. These weren't just some of my paranoid delusions; she had something in store for me. And I could probably waste hours thinking it over, rattling my brain for any solution, but unfortunately any answer I did come up with I didn't even want to consider as a possibility. They weren't exactly pleasant. And I wouldn't exactly put it past her to do something that was at least fundamentally related to what I had in mind.

At least, amidst all of this confusion, and conspiracy there was a subtle silver lining. Apparently, the Grand Councilwoman still believed–or at least _hoped _I would eventually come around and hand over my Experiment to her. So she was gracious enough to reinstate my solitary shower privileges. But something told me this wasn't the end. Maybe she wasn't trying to bribe me into anything. Maybe she was just giving one last chance at a peaceful transaction before she made her move. Either way, today was my time to take a shower, and I was looking forward to washing all of the dirt and grit out of my fur. For one, I was starting to smell, and secondly I was certain the warm waters would do wonders for my aching muscles. Especially my right arm. Warm water always soothed the pain in my arm.

Although, maybe indulging myself in a shower wasn't the greatest idea. After all, every time I take a shower something bad always happens. Whether it's soul crushing hallucinations or barbaric rape attempts, something always happens. I can remember back to a time when I could take a shower and wouldn't have to worry about getting my head ripped off. Tragically, in prison that's another luxury I can't afford. But at least I would be washing myself in private and wouldn't have to worry about the bloodthirsty populace of Prison Asteroid K-37.

It's remarkable that when you have nothing, when everything you would consider the positive aspects or your life are taken away; the simplest necessities of life can brighten your day. In my case it was the promise of a hot shower. At least one good thing had come out of my life sentence in prison: I now realized how ignorant I had been; how I had taken every little thing for granted. Now I had a greater respect for life. I think I finally realized how precious and fragile it is. I wasn't going to live forever, and quite honestly I didn't even want to try. All life has to come to an end at some point. In a way I was sort of looking forward to death. I know that must sound morbid, but to someone like me, death is not considered an end but is thought of as another greater beginning. In my lifelong search for knowledge, there would be nothing more satisfying than living out my life and finally learning that age old secret of what truly happens after death. I suppose eventually I will learn the secret, but hopefully not any time soon. As excepting as I am about death, I still had things to do. Things that must be done before I am ready to leave this world. Among my many thoughts there is only one absolute: I wasn't going to get any of those things accomplished as long as I'm stuck here in prison.

Just then my thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my cell door. It seems like every time I start to get some serious thinking underway, I always get interrupted by something, and this time it was the guard arriving to escort me to the showers. Well it was about time. Service in this cell block was terribly slow. My meals were always late and my escorts to the showers were always tardy. Oh well, could be worse. At least I didn't have to suffer another cell mate. I can only imagine what that would be like–

"Prisoner10100101," the guard announced. "I am here to escort you safely to the cleansing facilities, resistance or failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Do you understand?"

_Who the hell is this nut-job trying to be? G.I JOE? I have a real Captain America here._

"Yes I understand," I told the guard. "Are we ready to leave?"

The guard stiffened and saluted. "Affirmative, I will evacuate prisoner with precious cargo to the facilities with the utmost stealth and secrecy."

_This guy is a few nuts short of a fruitcake, _I thought as I spotted all of the badges and medals he had pinned to his uniform.

"Alright then, let's go," I said, climbing down from my bed.

The guard who I nicknamed Captain America, nodded and proceeded to fasten my wrists securely into handcuffs.

My journey to showers was needless to say, dull. As long as I walked in a straight line and kept my head down I had nothing to be afraid of. But it wasn't my arrival at the showers that held any great significance. It was what happened _after_ I arrived.

The 'Cleansing Facilities' as Captain America had called them were just as I remembered. There wasn't even the slightest trace or evidence of the carnage that had taken place here only weeks ago. The hacked and mangled corpses of my inmates had been cleared away and the floor was re-tiled. Which is a good thing I imagine. I don't think washing myself while standing on bloodstained tiles would be very sanitary. But what the hell. I've been through worse. It wouldn't be the most disgusting thing to happen to me.

"You have exactly fifteen minutes," Captain America boldly declared as he removed my handcuffs and forced me into the showers.

I growled and watched as the door closed behind me and I was left alone in the dingy and poorly lit facilities. Even though the floor had been re-tiled, this place somehow managed to look shabby and weather worn. Even as I walked towards a shower head I could feel a thin coating of grime collecting on the pads of my feet. It was disgusting.

Shuddering, I stepped under the leaking and rusted nozzle and sighed as it came to life, sending a harsh stream of water cascading down my body. Thankfully Captain America had not forgotten to turn on the hot water.

It was rare moments like this when I was able to relax. The endless drum of water pounding against the floor was the only thing I knew. Sighing, I let my ears drop and felt all the tension in my aching and pounding muscles melt away. In these blissful moments where the only thing in existence was the drumming of water, I felt truly at peace. I pushed all of my troubles and worries from my mind and just reveled in the wonderful sensation of the warm water thoroughly soaking my fur. Unfortunately, much to my chagrin and disappointment; my time of relaxation which was almost tragically short, wouldn't last.

Because at that instant the shower door suddenly burst open and the showers were flooded with federation soldiers. Panicking, I whirled around to see the business ends of five plasma cannons pointed directly at my face. Wildly my eyes scanned the faces of my attackers. They were all the lizard like men that made up the federation's army. They wore the standardized white combat uniforms and their long faces were concealed by helmets and tinted face guards. What they wanted with me I had no idea. Had this whole thing been a trap the all along? Just then I spotted Captain America lurking around the edge of the group, smiling and watching me struggle with a delighted twinkle in his eye.

Placing his finger on the trigger, one of the guards approached me and forced me against the wall.

"The Grand Councilwoman demands a meeting with you immediately," The Guard said as he roughly grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and forced me to march beside him.

I didn't know what to do. It all happened so fast. One moment I was standing peacefully under a warm stream of water and the next thing I know I'm being forced down a dark passageway, towards a closed door.

The Grand Councilwoman was waiting for me beyond that door, and when I was once again seated in front of her, she was in a state I had never seen her before. Gone were the plates of chocolate éclairs and masks of false cheerfulness. Now she seemed tired and ragged like she hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in days. There were dark bags under eyes that did nothing to dull the intensity of her icy stare. To me she had the appearance of someone who had gotten ready in a hurry. And she was definitely in a rush. Something had caused her great distress and I was curios as to what it could possibly be.

"Something very distressing has occurred," The Grand Councilwoman said as she sat in the chair opposite of me. I could see her hands. They were shacking. "It would seem that this problem is a little closer than I expected. We must act quickly if the federation is to survive."

For moment I was silent. I quietly sat in my chair, water from my still wet fur dripping onto the floor. It was strange seeing her like this. So tired and ragged. It almost made her look human. Before I saw her as an unstoppable force. An endless and unrelenting machine. Almost like a goddess. She always seemed so cold and untouchable. But now, seeing her in this state, exhibiting wearisome traits that could be associated with every other living creature; I realized that she wasn't a machine. She was a living,breathing thing, and like every other living thing she needed to eat, to breath, and to rest. Something had knocked the goddess from her pedestal and into the world of the mortals, and I was anxious to know what could have such power. So I asked her the only question that came to mind:

"What problem?" I asked.

Her tired but still intense eyes looked up at me, almost like a deadly storm was raging in those dark, green depths deciding whether or not to destroy and ravage. But she relented.

"This may trouble," the Grand Councilwoman said as a guard handed her a steaming cup of tea. "But, you must know, because it seems that we are going to have to assist each other for our fates are intertwined."

I leaned forward. I didn't want to miss a single word she said. "What has happened? Tell me," I demanded.

She sighed and took a sip from her tea before continuing. "Dr. Jacques Von Hamsterviel's forces have attacked your home planet."

The moment the words left her mouth, I felt my heart stop and I nearly fell from my chair in a mad panic.

"What!?" I yelled. "When!? Why!? Was anyone hurt!?"

"It would appear," The Grand Councilwoman replied. "That Dr. Hamsterviel is also aware of Experiment O, and last night, while the federation slept. He and a small armada attacked the island of Kauai in search of it. No one was injured and he failed to obtain the experiment due to the efforts of Experiment 626. Our forces arrived shortly after the initial attack, and Hamsterviel fled. We perused but lost him after he managed to evade our blockade."

My ears drooped and I lowered my head.

"This is all my fault," I said on the verge of tears.

"YES!"

Startled, I looked up to see the Grand Councilwoman who had jumped to her feet, sending both her chair and cup of tea hurtling to the floor. The chair fell with a noisy clang and the cup shattered but the Grand Councilwoman noticed none of these things. Her eyes were alive with a maniacal light and for a moment I was afraid.

"YES!" She repeated. "_It is your fault!_ And this is your chance to redeem yourself!"

"What do you mean?" I asked a little uneasily.

"I mean, by giving me Experiment O you could prevent Dr. Hamsterviel from getting it in his clutches. And using Experiment O, I could finally wipe out the threat of that disgusting little fur-ball once and for all." Determined, she leaned across the table until our faces were inches apart. She could have been close enough to kiss me. "I know my methods might seem a little harsh, but it is for the good of the federation. And just because my punishments might appear unjustified and unfair, that does not mean I will fail to reward loyal service when it is due."

Now I knew the reason for her distress. Hamsterviel was after my experiment just like she was, and she wanted to get it before he did. And the fastest way to do that was through me.

"What I am about to offer you is priceless," The Grand Councilwoman declared. "If you surrender Experiment O to me, I will pardon all charges against you, and you will be immediately released from this prison."

_Released from prison,_ My ears perked up in interest but I remained silent.

"You are a brilliant scientist Simon," She said. "Hand over the experiment and not only will I release you, but I will establish you as President of Galactic Defense Industry's. Think it over Simon, your freedom at last and galaxy wide fame as the greatest scientist ever to enter the federation." The Grand Councilwoman smiled maliciously and placed her hand on my shoulder. Her grip was so strong I could see the tendons sticking out in her arm. "Join me Simon," She pleaded. "I'll make your dreams come true . . . it is a magnificent specimen, you _must_ let me have it."

I looked into the Grand Councilwoman's eyes; their icy green depths seemed to melt and I could see her true desperation. She knew if Hamsterviel got his hands on my experiment he would destroy her. Everything she had worked so hard to build, her entire empire. Her whole world would crumble and come crashing down under the might of my creation. And the only thing that stood in the way of the inevitable destruction of her dictatorship was the very thing she had confessed to loath and despise: Me.

And this was it. The final temptation. I was like Faust being tempted by the devil to sell his soul. I'll admit, I was tempted to take her offer . . . _very_ tempted. All I had to do was hand over my experiment and all of this would stop. No more escape plots, no more cells, and no more injuries. I could be with my family again. But could I do it? Was it worth it? Could I hand over my creation–my brain child, and condemn it to a life of servitude as this women's weapon of mass destruction? There was no easy answer. I had so many factors to consider. Every time I thought of just giving in to her, I couldn't help but remember when I first created him. I remember pushing my face anxiously against the glass shield of the fusion chamber, feeling so worried that he would be another failure. Then the remarkable feeling of seeing those large black eyes staring curiously back at me. The eyes I made for him . . . he was perfect. It nearly killed me to dehydrate him after he had just barely begun to live . . . No, I couldn't do it. No matter what happened to me I could never give him to her.

Growling, I summoned every ounce of Courage I possessed and looked the Grand Councilwoman right in the eye.

"I will never give my experiment to you," I said.

Frowning, the Grand Councilwoman recoiled and stood upright. "Think of what your saying," She said.

I raised my head and stared at her defiantly. "I have."

She frowned and the distinctive lines in her forehead became curved and twisted in anger. Her right hand gripped the head of her cane so hard it started to tremble an I feared it might shatter. This was it. The desperation was gone from her eyes. The goddess was back. The unmerciful and unrelenting machine had taken its rightful place on top the pedestal. Anger as I had never seen it burned in her eyes, the storm was loose and free to unleash its unending fury.

"Very well then," The Grand Councilwoman stated in a harsh and resounding tone. "Then you leave me no choice. I shall enjoy watching you _break_."

What occurred next was a blur. The last thing I remember is the cruel and sadistic smile that stretched across the Grand Councilwoman's face and the mocking words she left ringing in my ears:

"I'm sure Vulnus will have her fun with you."

Then, pain exploded from the back of my head and everything went black.

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**Alius111: Well, there it is. Yet another chapter. Who could this mysterious Vulnus be? Well I can't tell you, then that would ruin the surprise. But I will tell you one thing: Vulnus is a Latin phrase, and it means 'To Wound.' And on the lovely note. Please Review.**


	11. Enter Vulnus, The Liberator

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Enter Vulnus, The Liberator**

My head was pounding. Each breath I took drove a mental rail spike deeper and deeper into the back of my skull. My stomach lurched and I thought I might vomit. The rancid stink of mildew and decay permeated the air, mercilessly assaulting my sensitive nose. I tried to shy away from the stink, but the disgustingly fresh smell of mold seemed to radiate from the very air itself, almost as if after generations of rot and festering, that damn stink had been permanently stamped and pressed into the air, like a stain you could never wash out.

_Where am I? _My mind asked. _I'm so cold._

I drew a rattling breath, and my body shivered. The air was so cold. The tips of my fingers had gone almost completely numb. I tired to perk my ears, but the thin membranes of skin had gone stiff. I could hear someone breathing; inhaling and exhaling. Its breath was so calm. I knew it could inly be one person. And a moment later, my suspicions were proven correct.

"Wake up Trog, and meet your teacher."

Groggily I lifted my head (Which felt like it weighed a ton) and opened my eyes. The Grand Councilwoman stood over me, her head held high, her icy green eyes almost glowing in the near darkness that cloaked my surroundings.

"Where am I?" I muttered sleepily.

The Grand Councilwoman's eyes flared slightly in the darkness and she chuckled lightly. "You are deep within the foundation of the original prison, miles under the asteroid's surface."

I growled and tried to lunge at her only to find my arms and legs bound to the metal chair in which I was sitting. My arms were fastened tightly to two large armrests by thick metal braces; my legs were bound in the same manner. Frightfully, I began to panic.

"Why have you brought me here?" I asked, I had never felt more awake in my life.

Again the Grand Councilwoman smiled. I didn't like it. It wasn't in her nature to smile so much.

"Did you know, that sometimes the most horrifying and antiquated things in life can sometimes be the most remedial?" Her voice was cold and it rang with a cruel clarity throughout the chamber. It made me frown in distaste.

"What do you mean?"

"Some believe, advancement in technology can give way to more efficient means of questioning," The Grand Councilwoman replied. "But I for one, believe in more . . . _traditional _methods of interrogation–"She was interrupted by the loud opening of a door. Light suddenly flooded into the darkened chamber, and the bottom edge of the door gave a scream against the stone floor like a child in agony. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the horrifying sound. But I had to see. I shuddered and watched in fascination as a slim and decrepit silhouette entered the room and silently approached. Its steps were awkward and graceless, whatever it was, it walked hunched over and clumsily as if it didn't know how to work its own legs.

At the sight of the aged and withered thing, The Grand Councilwoman smiled and extended her hand. "Vulnus," She greeted. "How wonderful to see you again."

Bowing, the woman named Vulnus grabbed the Grand Councilwoman's outstretched hand and shook it uncomfortably.

"Greetings," Vulnus said. Her voice was quiet and raspy; it sent a cold shiver running down my spine. "How nice to have your grace in Vulnus' humble abode."

Curios, I leaned forward to get a good look at the strange women.

The women named Vulnus was short and stood hunched over. She was clothed in ragged and flowing black robes with a finely wrought crest that depicted a leering skull. I could see her hands pocking out from under the folds of her robes; her skin was black and deep seeded with varicose veins; they ran intricately underneath her leathery hide like a grouping of spider webs; her fingernails were long and yellow, the edges were jagged and flacked almost as if she had once tried to desperately claw her way out of a grave. But I couldn't see her face. The large black hood Vulnus wore kept her face hidden which only added to the feeling of mystery that seemed to fallow her like a dark aura.

That's when she saw me. I couldn't tell if she was looking at me because I couldn't see her face, but the dark void that filled her hood was turned in my direction and didn't turn away. Suddenly the door slammed shut, and in this shadowy and desolate chamber, I felt truly trapped.

"Hmm," Slowly Vulnus reached out with her claw-like hand and gently caressed my face with her spidery fingers–her touch was so cold, it was like rubbing against a corpse. "Him is a warm one," She said harshly. "Him must not be dear to you if you brought him to see Vulnus."

The Grand Councilwoman chuckled and placed her hand on the Vulnus' withered shoulder.

"He has something I want," She said. "It is now a matter of national security. He refuses to divulge the information, and I brought him here with the hope that you could . . . _Persuade_ him to be a tad more benign."

The dark void looked down at me. I didn't know how, but I knew she was smiling.

"Of Course my lady," She said, running the stiff blade of her finger along my jawline. "Vulnus will liberate him on your behalf."

Growling, I barred my fangs and snapped at her finger; she laughed and clapped her shriveled hands together; when they met they made a noise like two dead fish smacking against each other. It was a sickening and disgusting sound.

"Ooh, him is a feisty one," She said. "But no matter, no matter . . .Vulnus, will work her magic."

"Do whatever seems necessary," The Grand Councilwoman said sternly. "But I warn you, I need him alive. So try and make sure he's not _permanently_ damaged."

Vulnus hissed and bowed. "Of Course my Lady. Vulnus' humble life is but to serve you."

The Grand Councilwoman nodded, and shot me one more hateful look before turning away from the groveling woman and marching into the darkness. Moments later I heard the screech of the door opening and then again as it slammed shut, leaving me in the company of this deranged woman. Now, I was truly afraid.

For a moment, Vulnus stared down at me, looking deep into my eyes. Then she hissed and shuffled over to my side. Her long twitching fingers caressed my cheek and her foul breath washed over my face. I dry heaved and was sure I was going to vomit.

"You,"She said softly. "Are fortunate." Absentmindedly, Vulnus reached into the darkness. I could hear the sound of metal objects clinking and knocking together. Just then she retracted her arm and revealed a long and sharply honed knife which she clutched tightly in her bony fists.

At the sight of the polished blade, I felt all the air rush out of my lungs. Hissing, she leaned forward and pressed the cold edge of the knife against my throat; its icy cold touch seared my skin. I gulped and looked terrified into the dark void.

"Prisoners, can come to love their torturers," Vulnus whispered, delicately running her gnarled finger along the edge of the blade. "They come to see them as fathers, mothers, and as teachers."

_Oh God, I'm dead now. There's no way I'm walking out of this alive._

Nervously, I looked down at the knife still pressed rigidly against my neck. One quick movement, that's all it would take. Just one quick jerk and she could slit my throat and end my life. Frightfully, my body started to shiver and I began to whimper quietly. I wasn't ready to die.

"To feel pain, is a wonderful thing," Vulnus uttered. "It let's us know we are _alive_." Hissing, she slithered upwards and pressed her cold and chapped lips to my ear. I shuddered and tried to drop my ear but her other hand had it clamped firmly in place. "Don't you see?" She murmured sensually. "Pain liberates us . . .it sets us free because we _are_ alive."She released her hold on my ear, and in a flash she unshackled my right hand and pressed it against my chest, directly over my beating heart–It was thumping a mile a minute.

"Can you feel it?" Vulnus tightened her grip on my wrist to the point I thought it might snap. I tried to pull away, but she kept my hand placed firmly over my heart. "Can you feel the life in you? So _strong_ . . . and yet, so fragile." Inhaling, she took in my scent and sighed with passion. Vulnus trembled, re-shackled my hand in the brace, leaned forward and whispered sensually into my ear: "Vulnus will liberate you from your chains, and Vulnus shall set you free."

"Your insane," I said terrified.

Curiously she inclined her head. "Perhaps. But what is insanity but a mind no longer confined and trapped by laws you clutch to so passionately." She hissed and leaned forward until my bulbous nose and the black void that filled her hood were almost touching. I tried to turn away from her, but my head met the backrest and it prevented me from recoiling any further. Again she hissed and pursued until our skin almost came into contact. "Do you want to know Vulnus?" She whispered.

_Know her? What does that mean?_

I shook my head. "N-no," I said.

The knife came down in a quick silver arc and plunged itself into my shoulder–it was so sudden–I cried out in agony as she twisted the blades handle, before finally wrenching it from my flesh. Whimpering, I dropped my head and bit my tongue. Dark pink blood spurted from the open wound and the pain was electric. The cut wasn't deep, but feeling the blade's icy cold penetrate my warm, soft skin had been enough to make me scream.

Standing upright, Vulnus looked down at me and dropped the knife.

"I know that hurts," She said. "We're really living now aren't we?"

Tears streaming down my face, I growled and spat on her robes.

"You bitch!" I yelled.

"Flattery is only but words," She whispered. "You shall know Vulnus child." And with the stealth of a ghost she lurched into the darkness, and again I heard the clinking and clanking of metal objects. There must have been some sort of table back there. A table where she kept he most sinister tools of interrogation.

When she reemerged, she was holding a large metal prod with some sort of brand welded on the end. Gracelessly she reached out and released my arm, before I could defend myself, Vulnus grabbed my wrist and turned my forearm upwards so my palm was facing the ceiling.

Laughing, she hissed and pressed a button on the prods handle; Immediately the brand glowed orange and she lowered it towards my skin.

"W-What are you doing?" I asked as I smelt my black fur beginning to smoke.

Silently, she looked up at me, and observed the terror shining in my eyes; the glowing brand was only an inch from my skin. "Vulnus is loving you," She said. And with that she pressed the brand onto my skin and pain exploded from my forearm. I screamed in torment and fervently attempted to pull my arm away from the searing heat, but she wouldn't let go. The stink of charred skin and burning fur wafted into nostrils, and that time I really was sick.

Quickly, Vulnus removed the scalding metal from my flesh and backed away as I vomited onto the floor. My stomach contracted and emptied its contents onto the stone floor. For a moment I sat there panting, then I cried out as I lurched forward and was sick again.

Sighing, Vulnus extended her shacking hand and gently wiped the spittle from my mouth with the sleeve of her robe.

"You can make it stop," She said softly. "Just give her what she wants. Vulnus will never stop, Vulnus never sleeps. Why suffer at the hands of Vulnus while you could run free?"

Sobbing I ignored her and cried like a beaten dog. The pain in my arm was terrible. I didn't want to look but I had to. I quivered and looked down at my forearm and moaned. There, imprinted in my charred and blistered skin were the numbers: 10100101. I whimpered and cringed from the stinging sensation that pulsated from my flesh. It hurt. Oh God, it hurt so much!

"I'm not telling you anything!" I spat.

"Suite yourself." Vulnus hissed. "But males are so easy to persuade when given the proper incentive."

And just as before, She restrained my arm, dropped the prod and vanished into the darkness. This time, when she reappeared she was holding a large black ball in one hand and a scalpel in the other. I couldn't even imagine what they were for.

"Her ladyship has instructed Vulnus to do whatever seems necessary," She placed the metal ball between my legs and pressed it up against my groin. "If this were any other time, Vulnus would toy with you more, before coming to such an exemplary step. But, Vulnus doesn't have the time needed. The Grand Councilwoman said she wanted what you have as soon as possible. And Vulnus lives to serve her lady."

Just then, the black ball began to vibrate. It sent a strange tingling sensation surging throughout my body. It was almost pleasurable.

"W-what are you doing?" I said, cringing from the awkward sensation spreading through my groin.

She hissed and removed a white towel from the folds of her robes. "Vulnus, is going to castrate you . . . _Completely."_

I gawked and was at a lose for words. Horrified, I stared down at the vibrating ball situated between my legs. And with a horrifying realization; I now knew what it was for.

When it comes to males, an experiments genitals are kept retracted until he is about to mate or is aroused in some other way. Usually, it's a voluntary action. But the nerves between the legs are so sensitive. If they are stimulated: there is little a male experiment can do to stop a_ . . . reaction_. As much as I tried to resist, I couldn't stop if from happening.

And then it happened. I felt my body contract, and my genitals released themselves from my groin–there was nothing I could to to stop it. Quickly, just as my genitalia appeared. Vulnus, removed the black ball and placed the white towel over my lap, possibly trying to spare my humility.

Sweating, I panted and watched in horror as Vulnus fell to her knees and moved the scalpel underneath the towel. I could feel my genitals lying there, cold, and limp. Moments away from being lopped off by this insane and demented woman.

Desperately, I tried to close my legs but the metal braces holding my feet apart stopped me from doing so; I was completely exposed.

"Don't fret," Vulnus said. "Perhaps Vulnus will let you keep them in a jar of formaldehyde." Suddenly an idea came to her. She looked up at me and I could see her eyes. They were there, dead and lifeless but yet horribly alive with the dark glow of death. Whatever epiphany had come to her sick and twisted mind. I knew it could only mean trouble for me.

Eyes glowing yellow, Vulnus nodded and dropped the scalpel to the floor.

I breathed sigh of relief as I heard the unmistakably loud clang of metal hitting stone. But my relief was short lived, because the moment the scalpel hit the floor, Vulnus had already reached into her robs and had extracted a long metal cylinder with hundreds of tiny, sharp razors lining the inside. It had to be the most sinister thing I have ever seen. And I knew what it was for . . . and what it would be going on.

"Since your body is so important to you males," She declared in her raspy tone. "Vulnus thinks you will be more obliged to assist our cause when your free of temptation. Now hold still while I liberate you from your physical desires." With her other hand, she reached under the towel and gripped me and brought that damned cylinder teasingly closer.

A spike of fear shot up my spine and my heart began hammering in my chest.

_Oh Shit! She's really going to do it. She's going to make me a unique._

At that moment hundreds of images flashed in my mind. I saw everything I would lose and what little I would gain. A mate, kids, if I let her do this I could kiss all that goodbye. I wouldn't be a male anymore. My masculinity, my self respect, and my ability procreate would all be lost. What was I supposed to do? If I didn't cooperate then I was going to lose one of the most important things in my life. I couldn't let it happen. I would give my life to save my experiment, but losing my manhood is where I draw the line.

"ALRIGHT!" I yelled as I felt myself being slipped into the metal cylinder. "I'll . . ." I sighed and dropped my head in shame. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Vulnus laughed and pulled the cylinder away from my groin.

"As Vulnus said: Males are so easy to persuade when given the proper incentive." She laughed and snapped her fingers. Suddenly the shackles binding my arms and legs released me.

I watched in confusion as Vulnus leaned forward and whispered something into my ear. My eyes widened.

"No . . .It can't be." I said mortified.

I looked up at Vulnus and she observed me. Slowly she reached up with her gnarled hands and pulled back her hood.

I gasped as I saw my teacher's face for the first time.

Her skin was jet black, leathery, creased and aged; her flesh seemed to be sucked up against her bones , almost as if she was wearing a skintight mask over her skull; Her cheekbones protruded from mer face, stretching and flexing the wrinkles in her skin; the tightly wound cords in her neck snacked underneath her collarbone and traveled along her neck; her eyes were pupil-less and a vivid yellow, they seemed to light up and shine in the darkness with a fiery light. Vulnus' hair was black and flowed down to her waist in ebony waves, it was course, and straw like. But perhaps the most terrifying: when she opened her mouth and laughed her lip-less mouth stretched open like a gaping wound, revealing a set of black gums and a row of long, needle sharp teeth.

Madly, her monstrous face came alive and Vulnus began to cackle. As I watched in mute horror, she slowly backed away, vanishing into the darkness. She was gone. But even as I heard the door open, I could still hear her laughing. But she was gone. Her interrogation had not been as unbearable as I thought it would be.

Gratefully, I sighed and pulled my genitals safely into my body. Feeling uncomfortable. I placed my hands protectively over my groin and crossed my legs. And even as the door flew open and Federation soldiers surrounded me, their guns pointed dangerously at my head. I didn't remove my hands from between my legs, nor did I forget the last words Vulnus whispered into my ear: 'The signal has been sent, make your escape.'

Whimpering, I began to wail.

* * *

**Alius111: Yes, finally the signal has been sent. Bet you didn't see that coming. It seems that Vulnus truly was Simon's liberator. ****In the next chapter, Simon will be escaping from prison. And it's about damn time. But until then. Please Review. **


	12. Simon's Retribution

**Alius111: Here is the next chapter in Simon's Experiments II. I finished a little early so I decided to post it. Enjoy.

* * *

**

Simon's Experiments II

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Simon's Retribution**

As I lay huddled in the corner of my cell, steadily rocking myself back and forth. Distant memories of my home began to resurface and move in a kaleidescope of images before my mind's wearisome eye. They were so vivid. I could almost taste the sweet Hawaiian air, and hear the waves washing over the algae and barnacle encrusted rocks. It all seemed so real. And at that moment–if only for an instant. I swear, instead of metal, I could almost feel the dewy grass cushioning my body, lifting it aloft like a cloud. It's not the first time I've imagined soothing waves and dewy grass.

I began to sob. My memories had become too much for me to bear. The thought of what I once had and how it was all taken away caused tears to stream down my face . . . and that's exactly what I wanted.

I continued to rock back and forth, sobbing quietly into my hands. I weeped and bawled like a beaten child. All the emotion I had kept bottled up inside me; all the feelings and all the pain; all the tragedy and ALL of the hurt had finally broken free, and came storming out in a flood of grateful tears. I was letting myself feel again, and at the instant. As I wept and spilled my heart out; I never felt more alive.

My cell door opened and in stepped a Guard, his large expensive boots pounding on the floor, and the polished barrel of his blaster glimmering dangerously in the light. He was here to bring me to the Grand Councilwoman. After I had agreed to hand over Experiment O, I had no doubt that she would want to see me as soon as possible. And it couldn't be more perfect. But first. I had to make myself look as pathetic as I possibly could.

As the Guard approached, I let out a small shriek and buried my face in my arms. The Guard stopped dead in his tracks and observed me as I wailed and nervously tugged at my fur. For him it seemed almost unbearable to watch.

"The Grand Councilwoman has demanded an audience with you." He said uneasily.

_What was that? Was that a hint of doubt in his voice?_

I said nothing. I just continued to cry and weep, letting the tears run down my face and my claws rake through my fur. I was really putting on a show.

The Guard sighed and pushed a button on the side of his helmet.

"I don't know what to do," He said, speaking into his mouthpiece. "He refuses to leave his cell." There was a prolonged moment of silence as the man on the other line spoke. Nodding, the Guard held his finger to the side of his helmet and murmured: "Yes . . . Okay . . . Is he still on board?" Another moment of silence. "No. I don't know what she did to him, he's very distressed. It's against protocol to transport prisoners in this state." Silence, the Guard nodded and hitched his belt. "Yes. Alright, send him in."

Throughout the Guards discussion I had been peeking over my arms, listening intently to every word he had spoken. I wasn't able to hear what the man on the other line had been saying, but I didn't need to. After I had been transported from Vulnus' dingy little chamber; I had only one request, and it appeared that they were finally going to oblige and grant my wish.

The Guard sighed and switched off his communicator. For a moment he was silent and stood there, watching me with disgust. My cries which had become louder and shakier by the minute seemed to offend him. The very sight of my tears appeared to repulse him. But he of course, said nothing. He merely just continued to observe my heaving chest and my running nose with a judging and uncaring expression.

Uncomfortably, the Guard shook his head and hitched his belt. He seemed to be just praying for someone to come along and break the awkwardness. Suddenly, my cries were interrupted by the arrival of a man I hadn't seen for years. And believe me when I say: I had never been more overjoyed to see him.

"Hey Cuz."

Whimpering, I apprehensively peeked through my fingers, and much to my immediate joy; I saw the pudgy and smiling face of Reuben staring down at me.

"How've you been kid?" He asked sympathetically.

I didn't respond. First, I took a moment to register the experiment standing before me. Reuben, who I have know all my life. Looked exactly as I remembered him. The short and hamster like experiment was still thick and a little on the chubby side. His large, protruding stomach stretched his shirt, revealing a thin line of yellow fur just above his waistline. He was dressed in a black federation uniform; much like the one I had seen Gantu wear. He actually looked pretty sharp.

Smiling, he looked down at me with kind, sympathetic eyes, and gently placed a comforting hand on my shacking shoulder. Immediately my body went rigid and I shied away from his touch, almost as if I was too frightened to come in physical contact with him.

Reuben didn't seem at all surprised by my reaction. He merely got to his knees and slowly held out his hand.

"Hey, it's okay." Reuben said quietly. "It's just me. You remember your Uncle Reuben don't ya?"

Tentatively, I raised my head and stared at him with watering eyes. I must have been quite the tragic sight, with my body wasted away too practically nothing, and tears running down my ragged face. I tired my best to look lost. Lazily I reached out and groped for him like a blind man gropes for his cane.

"R-Reuben?" I said confused.

Smiling, Reuben nodded and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Ya, they thought you might need to see a friendly face. I know ya couldn't forget this big honker." He lifted his furry hand and gave his bulbous red nose a squeeze. I laughed quietly and allowed Reuben to lift me to my feet. I pretended to sway a little, but Reuben was there. He grabbed my shoulders and held me steadily in place. "Wo, easy." He said. "Has this kid been knockin' a couple back?"

The Guard sighed with frustration and pointed fervently to the door. "Can we just transport the prisoner? The Grand Councilwoman wants to meet with him today, and she is **not **the kind of person you want to keep waiting."

Reuben scoffed and waved his comment away. "Ya, Ya, Hold your horses." He said. "I'll get him there. We wouldn't want her 'Ladyship' to get an ulcer."

The Guard sighed angrily and crossed his arms. "Just hurry it up. I'm not about to lose my job because some psychopath–"He nudged his head in my direction–"Had a nervous breakdown."

Reuben rolled his eyes and began leading me towards the door.

"Hard-ass," He whispered under his breath.

As I was led quietly down the prison block with Reuben walking closely at my side and the Guard marching a few paces ahead; a smile passed over my face and I began to quietly chuckle to myself. Things were going exactly as planned. My tears had dried up and the only emotion that was evident in my eyes was cold, and unrelenting, determination.

_This is almost too easy, _I thought.

XXXX

As always. When I met with the Grand Councilwoman; I was placed precipitously at the end of a large table with the self proclaimed 'Master of the Universe' sitting opposite of me. And as always, She sat quietly and held and an air of authority with her right hand gripping her cane. I always thought that was little strange: when she sat, she still held onto her cane. It was almost as if she wanted it nearby in case she needed a weapon to defend herself. Not that it would do her any good. The aged and plump Chief and Leader of the Galactic Federation didn't seem seem very limber to me. It was difficult for me to imagine her doing a back flip while brandishing her cane like a sword, and bravely fending of a band of mercenaries using her physical prowess. Which sadly, in reality; did not exist.

Reuben stood stationary in the corner of the room, staring vacantly at the ceiling with his hands resting behind his head. I expected he would soon grow tired of standing and would succumb to sitting on the floor. Reuben was never one for standing, or any kind of physical activity for that matter. And he wondered why he was fat. I suppose it could possibly be because he is lazy and constantly stuffs his craw with an absurd amount of sandwiches. But that's just my opinion.

"I didn't expect you to break so soon," The Grand Councilwoman said smugly. "You disappoint me." I looked up and noticed she was staring fixedly at the medicated bandages wrapped tightly around my shoulder and right forearm. The cut where Vulnus had stabbed me would heal without a scar. But unfortunately, the numbers '10100101' would be forever branded into my skin. I would have to live with that token of pain and humiliation for the rest of my life.

Sighing quietly, I dropped my head and lowered my ears in shame.

"I will give you Experiment O," I muttered sadly.

"Yes, I thought as much," She said. "Every man has his price Trog."

I closed my eyes and tried to stem my tears. "My experiment is as good as yours."

Smiling, the Grand Councilwoman nodded. "Excellent. I knew you would see things my way . . . everyone eventually does–"

"But," I added. "I have a few conditions of my own."

"Conditions?" She said raising an eye ridge. "I hardly think you are in any position to be making conditions."

I ignored the Grand Councilwoman's comment and continued on as if I didn't hear her. "I know you won't even consider letting me go," I said sadly. "But if you want my experiment, then I want a transfer to that prison you mentioned before."

Immediately, the Grand Councilwoman shook her head. "Absolutely not. That offer has been rescinded. I will give you a transfer to another prison, but believe me. You will not be reading under shady trees or swimming in oceans."

"B-But you said–"

"I said, that I would give you a transfer. You had your chance to take my offer, but you refused." The Grand Councilwoman frowned. The Goddess was here and she was vengeful, deceitful, and all business. "Upon your arrival to the new prison. I will expect you to write out a detailed profile of Experiment O. I want it to include a summary of its abilities as well as its limitations, and its whereabouts. You will leave immediately. I have prepared a vessel for your transportation, and my guard will escort you to the hangar–"

"No."

The Grand Councilwoman's eyes widened in shock. "What did you say?"

Defiantly, I looked up into the Grand Councilwoman's eyes and shook my head.

"No guards," I said. "I want Reuben to escort me to the hangar. I want to be with someone I'm familiar with."

The Grand Councilwoman considered this for a moment. She seemed to weighing the pros and cons in her head before coming to a final decision. She had to say yes. If she didn't then my whole plan would blow up in my face. The whole premise of my escape depended completely on that fat-sandwich eating bastard.

_Come one. Say yes._

Finally the Grand Councilwoman came to a decision. She turned to Reuben who was looking both surprised and shocked by my request.

"Agent Reuben," The Grand Councilwoman said to him. "Can you handle this?"

At first Reuben had been a little shocked that she was addressing him. Something told me past experiences had taught him to stay silent and to not speak unless spoken to. But he was quickly able to regain his composure and mask his former discomfort.

"Uh . . .Ya, No problem Big-G," He said awkwardly. "Piece of cake."

The Grand Councilwoman nodded her approval and I breathed a sigh of relief–which thankfully went unnoticed.

"I will allow him to escort you to the ship," She declared in a very business like tone. "However, a guard will be accompanying you to ensure that there is no . . . _funny business._ I would hate to think that one of my agents would go out of his way to help a family member." Her icy green eyes pinned Reuben against the wall. "I'm sure he knows what would result should he make such a rash decision."

Reuben gulped and nervously scratched the back of his neck. Apparently he did know what would result should he try to assist me in any way. I honestly doubted I would be getting any help from him.

_Okay, so a guard is going to be tagging along. A minor setback–but nothing I can't handle._

"Gentlemen," The Grand Councilwoman said, standing on her feet. "I will be seeing you all in due time. Agent Reuben, Guard. You will now proceed to escort the prisoner to his transport. Even the slightest step out of line, don't hesitate to shoot. But I need him alive."

The Guard bowed his head and stepped forward. He walked over to me and restrained my wrists in handcuffs. He checked that they were secure before pushing me off the chair and leading me to the door. The Grand Councilwoman watched our every step as we crossed the room, as a hawk observes a mouse before it prepares to snatch it up in its talons.

The door opened and Reuben stepped out into the brightly lit hallway and the guard motioned for me to fallow. But before I left the room, I looked back at the Grand Councilwoman and our eyes met. For a moment we just stared at one another. Two rivals who had caused each other so much grief, locked in a rigoros staring contest. The Grand Councilwoman frowned and narrowed her eyes; I barred my fangs and growled. We parted as enemy's. And if the next fifteen minuets went according to plan: I would never have to see her or this damned prison ever again.

XXXX

I walked silently down the brightly lit passageway with Reuben at my side and the Guard marching closely ahead. Any other prisoner might have been lost, but I knew exactly where I was. When Hyde made his very unexpected, but very helpful visit; he had been kind enough to present me with a schematic of the prisoner. Obviously I couldn't keep it with me, as my cell was being annually searched. But it's times like this when having a photographic memory comes in handy. I remembered exactly what was on those plans, and therefore, I knew exactly where I was and where I was heading.

My heart thumped rapidly in my chest. I could feel the anticipation swelling up in my stomach like an expanding bubble. This was it: If I was going to escape from this hell hole once and for all. I would have to do it now.

My eyes searched out Reuben who was walking silently to my right. He had no idea, but he was just about to hand me the keys to my escape. But first I would have to take care of the guard. I looked in front of me and observed him as he stiffly marched ahead of us. His military training was evident in the manner in which he carried himself. He might be a little tougher to take down. I would have to take him by surprise. There was no way I could overpower him.

I looked over at Reuben. I didn't have to worry about him. He may be as strong as my father, but he lacks the same motivation. In short: he would be too lazy to fight back. I could only pray that would still be the case.

Nervously, I let out a rattling breath. I could feel cool drops of sweat dripping down my furry brow. This was it. After all of the planning I had finally reached my opportune moment; it was now or never.

_Well, here goes nothing._

"What happened to Gantu?" I asked unexpectedly.

Reuben's step faltered a little but he kept on marching. "What?" He said. "You mean old Blubber-but?"

I nodded.

Reuben frowned and he suddenly became fascinated by the tiled floor moving progressively underneath his feet.

"Well, after the Big-G gave him the boot. Old Fish-sticks was sent to work in some junk heap in the 31st quadrant. Haven't seen 'em since."

I nodded. "H-Have you talked to my Father lately?"

"Ya, we keep in touch," Reuben replied, still staring down at the floor. "You know, the whole 'Ohana' thing . . . your old man talks about you a lot."

My ears perked and for a moment I forget about my escape plan.

"He does?" I asked.

He didn't answer. Reuben had become distracted by two attractive doctors that came giggling down the hallway. Smirking, he watched them intently and whistled at them as they passed by.

"Hey, hot stuff." He hollered. "Give me a call sometime." He winked and held an invisible phone to his ear.

The two doctors stared back at him in disgust and continued walking down the hall. One of them even went as far as to make an offensive gesture.

"Ah, come on. Don't be like that," Reuben called back. After they rounded the corner, Reuben put his hands in his pocket and his walk shifted awkwardly into a strut. "They'll call." He said confidently.

"I wouldn't hold my breath," I whispered–Dammit! I had to get back on track."Now, you were saying my Father talks about me?" I said.

"What?" Reuben asked confused. He must have been visualizing the attractive doctors. "Oh ya, he worries about you. Everyone misses ya. I got to tell ya. I never thought you'd go off the deep end kid."

I stopped dead in my tracks and began to weep. It was so spontaneous I had even managed to surprise myself. Sniveling, I pressed the metal shackles against my face and began crying against its cold, unfeeling surface.

Reuben came to a stop as well and seemed at a loss on how to handle the situation.

"Wo–hey, easy Kid," He said uneasily. " It can't be all that bad."

The guard who had made sure to stay a few feet ahead of us had stopped and was now looking back at us with an annoyed looked plastered on his long, reptilian face.

"What's the hold up?" He demanded.

"Just a sec," Reuben called back. "The Kids having a fit. You go on ahead. I'll be okay here."

The Guard shrugged and continued walking. "Whatever."

Once the Guard had walked safely out of earshot; I dropped to my knees and my cries became desperate wails. Tears poured down my face, and my body began to shake.

"I-It's j-just s-so h-hard," I stammered between sobs. "I-I can't t-take this any l-longer!"

Sighing, Reuben frowned and placed a sympathetic arm on my shoulder.

"I know it's rough Kid," He said soothingly. "Being stuck in the big house really bites the big one, but keep your chin up. Your getting a transfer to a better prison . . . HEY, how about a sandwich?" Smiling, Reuben reached into his pocket and extracted a small sandwich wrapped in cellophane. He tried to hand it to me but when he noticed the shackles binding my hands he grinned sheepishly. "Oh ya. I forgot . . .sorry kid."

His attempts at cheering me up weren't successful. I Leaned into his arms and began crying quietly on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," He said, patting me lightly on the back. "It's okay."

"No it's not," I cried. My sobs and moans were muffled and disoriented against his uniform. "My life has gone to hell. I'm never going to see my family again and I don't know why!"

"If there was anything I could do," Reuben said. "I-I would."

"Well, there is one thing you could do." I said, backing away from his shoulder. "Could . . . could you take off my handcuffs for one moment? They put them on too tight and it really hurts." I held up the shackles and gave them a little shake. It was a lame attempt I know, but I hoped to whatever God for it to work.

"Uh . . ." Reuben looked nervously at the handcuffs. "You know . . . I'm really not supposed to."

"Please," I begged desperately. "It just hurts so much." I scrunched up my face and feigned discomfort. "I don't think I can take it any longer." I astounded myself. I was always a good actor. I could have been in theater. I could already hear the crowds applauding as I was presented with the Academy Award for Best Actor.

"Uh . . ." Quickly, Reuben looked around the hallway to see if anyone was watching before fishing a set of keys out of his pocket. "Okay, but just for a second."

Gratefully, I held up my hands and Reuben slipped the key into the lock and they popped open.

Letting out a small sigh, I lightly massaged my wrist.

_Idiot, _I thought. _I could have never gotten away with this unless it was anyone but him._

"Thanks Reuben." I said smiling. "You have no idea what you just did for me."

Reuben rolled his eyes and waved his hand impatiently. "Ya, ya, now let's get these cuffs on you before I get in trouble."

As he moved to slip my hand back into the shackle; I looked down to his belt and spotted the small plasma blaster sticking out from his holster. I hadn't _just_ noticed the weapon. I knew it was there all along. I felt a little bad about taking advantage of Reuben's naïve nature, but I had to do what I had to do.

Just then, my eyes widened in fright and I pointed behind Reuben. "What the hell is that!" I yelled.

Startled, Reuben spun around and I lunged. My fingers wrapped around the gun's handle and I wretched it form his holster. In an instant Reuben had looked only to find nothing behind him, but when he turned back to bind my hands, convinced that everything was status-quo. He found the barrel of his own gun pushed against his forehead.

His jaw dropped and the shackles fell from his hands. "W-What?" He stammered in disbelief.

I frowned and place my finger on the trigger. "Sorry Reuben. It's nothing personal."

"B-but you were crying," He said falling to his knees. "W-we're Ohana a-and y-you were crying."

I smiled and switched off the safety. "A word of advice Reuben . . . never trust a convict." Growling, I lifted my arm and brought the gun barrel down on his head as hard as I could. There was a loud thump like a ball hitting concrete and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

I didn't waste anytime. I dropped to my knees, quickly fishing around in his pocket until I found what I was looking for; my fingers met something hard and plastic and I pulled it from his pocket with and excited whelp.

"Yes!" I said looking down at the key card clutched tightly in my hand. "Thank you Reuben, you magnificent sandwich eating bastard."

"What's the hold up!"

I jumped and nearly dropped the key card. Nervously I looked up and spotted a long shadow bending around the corner. The guard was coming back to check on us.

Frantically, I pointed the blaster, and the moment he showed his ugly face I pulled the trigger. A ball of green plasma burst from the gun's barrel; before he could even comprehend what had happened; the ball of plasma struck his head. There was a quick burst of blood and the guard fell to the floor dead.

Now I was all alone. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. Once I was convinced it was safe, I took off running down the hall as fast as my legs would carry me. I had to act fast. I was close to the hangar but not close enough. Any moment now someone was going to spot the mess I had left behind either by surveillance or by the likely chance that someone would walk by and see it for themselves. Either way, the alarm would sound and I would quickly find myself trapped inside the prison as it was sent into lock down. But that's what the key card was for. If the alarm was raised I could use Reuben's key card to override the system and run free. If my hunch was correct. Then it was an escort's key card, usually given to the Grand Councilwoman's bodyguards in case they had to transport her out of the prison while it was in a state of emergency. But it would do well to serve my purpose.

My heart was jackhammering in my chest, it wasn't used to such physical strain; I desperately hoped it wouldn't give out on me. I had a painful stitch in my side and sweat was stinging my eyes, but still I ran. I couldn't stop. Mentally, I ran through the schematics of the prison and plotted the quickest route to the hangar.

All of a sudden, the lights flared red and a blaring alarm sounded throughout the prison. I stopped dead in my tracks and watched in dismay as metal plates closed over every door and the light fixtures opened into plasma blasters.

"WARNING! CODE RED!" A frantic voice yelled over the intercom. "PRISONER HAS ESCAPED IN THE XENON SECTOR!"

I yelled and jumped out of the way as the plasma blasters turned in my direction and opened fire.

My back slammed into a door, and I clumsily fumbled with the key card. I could hear the blaster's mechanical arms rotating in my direction. I had about another second before I was going to be nothing more than a smocking crater.

I jammed the key card into the slot and the door opened. Quickly, I ran inside just as the cannons fired. There was an explosion. I yelled and threw myself forward, shielding my head with my arms. I landed gracelessly and with a painful thump. As I heard the door close behind my, I let out a sigh of reprieve.

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE!"

My head shot up and I spotted a guard just as he jumped from his chair, leaping valiantly for his gun which lay discarded on a table. But I was quick. I rolled onto my back, swiftly pointing my blaster at the guard, just as his hand closed around his weapon. My shot hit him in mid-air and he was sent hurtling into a wall. A thin line of blood sprayed me across my face. The guard was dead. He was no longer my problem.

I climbed to my feet and was just about to run out the door; when suddenly I realized where I was. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped as I noticed the large computer terminal placed before me. But that wasn't the cause for my stunned admiration.

Transfixed, I looked around and circled the room, gazing in wonderment at the hundreds of screens that lined the walls. Hundreds of events were all occurring at once. In one screen I saw a platoon of guards running down a hallway; in another I saw Reuben's still unconscious body lying motionlessly in a pool of the guards blood, and gazing back at me from another screen was the small room where the Grand Councilwoman stood, heavily guarded by what had to be at least fifty soldiers.

I was in some sort of surveillance office.

"Wow," I said in awe. Carefully I stepped over the guards corpse and climbed into the chair situated before the computer terminal.

My fingers were poised over the keyboard. This was just too perfect. From here I could hack into the Prisons central mainframe and clear a way to the hangar.

"How am I ever going to hack into this system?" I said with sarcasm. "It would take some sort of genius to crack this code."

Smiling, I cracked my knuckles and began typing rapidly on the keyboard. It didn't take long for me to hack through their firewall and gain control of the central control room. I now had a direct link to the central computer. Once I was in, and had established my control; I made short work of deactivating the security and defense systems, but at the same time making sure to keep the guards trapped within the passageways.

I smirked and gazed up at the computer screen. Hitting a few keys, I brought up an image of the Grand Councilwoman and watched her as she was pacing anxiously around the room. She looked infuriated. The sight of her angry and ecstatic expression made a smile appear on face. Why shouldn't have a little fun while I was here?

I laughed merrily and began typing. "How are you holding up in there?" My voice echoed and rang aloud on the intercom.

Confused, the Grand Councilwoman looked up at the surveillance camera. Her eyes widened and her lipped curled into snarl as she realized what had happened. Gripping her cane she held out her hand. Speedily, a guard handed her a communicator and she began speaking into it.

"What you have you done?"I could hear voice resounding from a small speaker on a nearby desk. Petty tonic having her in the palm of my hand.

"I'm settling the score," I said into the intercom. "Prison Asteroid K37 is now under **my** control. I have taken over your central mainframe." I paused in mid-sentence and took a moment to strike a few more keys. "I think you'll now find your key cards and access codes quite useless."

"Do you actually think you have a chance at escaping?" The Grand Councilwoman asked angrily. Even from where I sat I could see a vein in her neck throbbing. She wasn't just infuriated, she was enraged.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I began typing. "Oh, I have more than a chance. In fact, even as we speak I have just finished reprogramming your defense systems. Now they will fire on every moving thing, but myself. The very sentient space crafts you used to patrol the prison blocks will now hunt you down like _rats_!" I laughed and spun around in the chair. "So. I'd stay in that room if I were you. We wouldn't want you to scar that pretty face."

I looked up and watched amused as the Grand Councilwoman, in a fit of rage threw a chair across the room.

"Well, I'd like to stay and chat," I said into the intercom. "I always enjoy our little talks. But I'm on a tight schedule and I have a ship to catch. Chow." I slammed my finger down on a key and the terminal screen went blank. Now I was having fun. Typing in a few more instructions, I sealed of all the exits but opened a path for me directly to the hangar where the ship was awaiting my arrival.

There are no words to describe how I was feeling. Now I was the one in control. After so many months of bending to her will and yielding to her demands. I was in control. Now she would be the one locked away, alone, and afraid. The only comfort I sought was the possibility that she might worry that she may be standing in the room that she may very well die in. But I didn't have time to waste thinking about the torment I may or may not be inflicting upon her. The Goddess was trapped, but I doubted she would remain so for very long. I had to move. Who knows how long it would take for reinforcements from Planet Turo to arrive.

"I've come to far too fail now," I said locking the terminal and jumping from the chair. I shuffled out the door, quickly running into the hall. I gazed up at the ceiling and watched the blasters as they rotated, pointing their Gatling-like faces in my direction. I let out a sigh of relief when they remained stationary and didn't proceed to blow me into oblivion. It was smooth sailing now. The guards were trapped in the higher levels and all doors were open to me.

XXXX

As I speedily approached the hangar's entrance, I could already begin taste my freedom. Getting to the hangar was simple enough, I had little trouble making my way to the hangar with all defenses operating in my favor. Soon enough I found myself standing in front of the entrance to the main hangar, and as the door opened and I stepped into the stadium sized vestibule, I couldn't help but feel an enormous sense of accomplishment. My plan had finally come to fruition.

I ran onto the circular catwalk that rounded the hangar and looked up in reverence at the vessel the Grand Councilwoman had chosen to transport me to my new accommodations. It was none other than the B.R.B 9000. The most advanced and prestigious battleship the federation had in its arsenal.

Why would the Grand Councilwoman use the leading craft in the Galactic Armada to transport a prisoner? Well, the answer was obvious: she probably wanted to make sure I wasn't apprehended by Hamsterviel on my way to the prison. There was no way in hell he would be suicidal enough to attempt an attack on such a powerful flagship. But this time, her cautiousness would be her own undoing.

The hangar was a massive circular shaped room with a vaulted roof and a narrow catwalk lining the walls. A large ramp protruded from the center of the catwalk and attached itself to the battleship's main entrance, and atop the hangar's gargantuan roof was a circular opening large enough for the ship to fly through during takeoff. I could see bright stars and distant nebula's shinning through the round opening. I wondered what kept this room pressurized. There must have been some kind of forcefield, keeping everyone and everything from being sucked into the vacuum of space.

But I couldn't toddle, I had to hurry. But as always I became distracted. Even though my current situation called for haste and quick thinking, I couldn't keep myself from taking at least minute to admire the intimidating spacecraft. As an evil genius I could truly appreciate such a feat of scientific ingenuity.

The B.R.B 9000, or the Big Red Battleship(How creative) was a real leviathan of a spacecraft. It's vast steel body was painted an angry shade of red; large red flames streaked vengefully down its hull, and two massive wings jutted from its side just below the air manifolds. They very sight of it was awe inspiring. I particularly admired the monster thrusters that accommodated the flagship's mighty stern. It was a very impressive piece of equipment.

The B.R.B seemed to call out to me, I could feel the raw power pulsating underneath its fiery hull. It made me smile. I could never have asked for a better spacecraft to make my escape in. Not wasting any time, I ran up the ramp and the bay door opened at my arrival, as if beckoning me to come inside. After that, the procedure was simple. I sped through the ships many hallways and corridors with an almost supernatural precision. I was determined to reach the bridge, and I intended to get there by any means necessary. I would shoot down anyone who got in my way. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. I didn't need to have the blood of another living thing on my hands, or on my conscience.

Eventually I was able to make my way up the ship. When I finally located the bridge, I readied my plasma blaster and stormed the door.

The bridge door exploded open and all heads turned towards the entrance and the commotion.

Growling, I leaped into the ship's control room, brandishing my plasma blaster.

"Everyone remain calm!" I yelled, firing a warning shot at the ceiling. "My name is Simon, and I am taking over this ship!"

The crew froze where they stood and and at least ten set of eyes watched in horror as I stalked down the stairs with my gun pointed at the first lieutenant.

The lieutenant who was a short, humanoid creature with a bulbous shark-like head sat nervously at the B.R.B's helm, with her tiny gray fists squeezing the steering apparatus.

I looked to my right and spotted one of the officers reaching for his weapon, but I fired a ball of plasma at his feet, causing him to shriek in fright and abandoned his foolhardy attempt at heroism.

"Don't even think about it," I threatened. "You'll be dead before your finger reaches the trigger. Now, if you'll all kindly relive yourselves of your weapons and slid them over to me."

All heads turned to the first lieutenant, who nodded and threw her own weapon at my feet. At first the rest of the crew was still. But she made a wild gesture and they all obeyed, reluctantly dropping their blasters and kicking them in my direction.

"Thank you." I twirled my blaster on my finger and approached the lieutenant with a whimsical smile.

Frowning, she glared at me and angrily clutched the arm rests of her chair.

I pointed my gun at her head. "Don't move," I said as I began to type on the ship's terminal. I attempted to access the B.R.B's central mainframe. But when I opened the link I was greeted by a big, flashing 'ACCES DENIED.'

I growled and slammed my fists down on the keyboard.

"Open the mainframe!" I yelled to the lieutenant.

Defiantly she shook her head. "No."

I frowned and pushed the barrel of my blaster against the bottom of her chin. "Open the mainframe," I threatened. "I'm only going to ask you one more time."

Terrified, she stared down mortified at my blaster and began to sweat. Growing impatient, I lightly squeezed the trigger and that was all the incentive she needed.

She sighed in defeat and typed in the password. The terminal's screen flashed green and the mainframe became open to me.

"You'll never get away with this," The Lieutenant spat.

I stopped typing and looked to the first lieutenant and smiled madly.

"Get away with this?" I asked. "I don't intend to get away with anything. Don't you see? This . . . this is a Kamikaze mission. I'M GOING TO DESTROY PRISON ASTEROID K-37!" I broke into a fit of maniacal laughter and slammed my fist down on the keyboard, activating the ships self-destruct sequence.

SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ENGAGED. T-MINUS 5 MINUTES.

The Lieutenant's eyes widened in terror, her hands flying to her temples. "What have you done you psychopath!?"

Leering menacingly, I leaned forward until we were almost touching. "If you value your lives, then I suggest you all leave!" I snarled.

I waited in silence as the crew broke into a mad panic. I closed my eyes and lifted my head upwards and waited patiently. I could hear them, they were screaming. They were literally stepping over each other to save their own skin. It sickened me. Where was the loyalty? It was actually kind of funny. These people were supposed to be the good guys, but Fletcher and his group–although crude and a little rough around the edges. Had proved themselves more loyal and trustworthy than the ones who claimed to be on the right side of the law.

Soon I was the only living thing left on the whole ship. Its crew and its engineers had fled in a desperate attempt to save themselves.

I smiled triumphantly and crossed my arms behind me back. "Computer," I said. "Deactivate the self-destruct sequence, and seal all entrances and exits to the ship.

"Yes, Captain." The computer said.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Captain Simon . . . I like the sound of that." I nodded and sat myself in the captain's chair. "Computer, set a course for the nearest inhabitable planet."

"Yes, Captain."

The bridge began to shack as tremors rocked through the ship. I could feel the captain's chair vibrating underneath me as the B.R.B's engines roared to life. I looked forward and gazed out the large window that provided me with a view to he farthest reaches of space. Now the only thing that stood in the way of my freedom was nothing but the empty void of space.

"Computer," I said. "Is there any other lifeforms present in the ship other than myself?"

"No, Captain."

Smiling, I nodded and leaned back in the Captain's chair. "Good . . .now take off."

Just then, my whole world seemed to lurch forward as the B.R.B thrust itself from the hangar and into the endless black void that was space. Stars became distant streaks of light and the prison was becoming a distant memory. I noticed a large leaver protruding from the armrest of the chair, and I pulled it.

"HYPERDRIVE ACIVATED." The computer's mechanical voice announced. "SYSTEM CHARGING."

I waited for moment, before finally slamming the lever back into the console. The loud hum of the engines resounded throughout the bridge, and the battleship rocketed off into space, traveling faster than the speed of light. I was finally free. Free of the prison and free of the Grand Councilwoman's grip. The only thing to do now was decide what to do next. The final stage of my plan was complete. In the end I had out smarted them all. I had no intention of joining Fletcher on Argon 7. At least not yet. I had business to take care of first. But now, I could relax. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I was once again free to govern my own life. And my only thought as I quietly hummed to myself as the B.R.B traversed light years with each passing second; was the look on the Grand Councilwoman's face when she finally realized I had hijacked her finest flagship. And with that lovely thought, I closed my eyes and resided myself to a long deserved nap. I yawned loudly and stretched out on the captain's chair, allowing the gentle hum of the ship's engines to purr me to sleep.

* * *

**Alius111: finally, Simon has escaped from prison. Please excuse some of the errors I may have missed. I think I got most of them. Anyway, in the next chapter, Simon will be making a short pit stop then it's straight on to Earth. I hope your as excited as I am. Please Review.**


	13. Why Are You Running?

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Why Are You Running?**

By now the B.R.B 9000 was a scorched pile of scrap metal floating aimlessly throughout the empty void of space. I had no choice; I had to destroy the ship. I couldn't risk taking it with me. Let's face it: A colossal Federation Class Flagship isn't exactly what I would call inconspicuous. So, I had to blow it up. I activated the self destruct sequence and transformed that giant hunk of scrap metal and sent it screaming into oblivion. At least it went out with a bang. I hope the Grand Councilwomen had insurance.

Besides wanting to remain as ethereal as possible, I had other reasons for discarding the ship. After just escaping from prison I had to throw the Federation off my trail. The Grand Councilwomen would have her agents combing the farthest reaches of space, searching with a ravenous hunger until they found me. I had to remain elusive, and the very ship they have been searching for provided me with the perfect method.

The B.R.B 9000 had roughly ten thousand escape pods, each with its own homing beacon installed. Now, the computer built into each pod is programmed to return to Planet Turo, but a little reprogramming and a little imagination took care of that that feature. After that, my plan was simple. I jettisoned every escape pod but one, and sent them all to different sectors in the galaxy. The federation would have no choice but to track them all down if they wanted to have any chance of capturing me. It would take them months to find them all. Essentially I sent the Federation on a wild goose chase. Then after I set the ship to self destruct, I escaped to a nearby planet in the final pod–making sure to jettison its homing beacon sending it into a black hole(I have no idea where that one is going to end up) and landing safely on the planet to gather supplies and a new ship capable of transporting me to Earth. A small escape pod didn't have enough fuel to make such a taxing flight.

My plan was fool proof. The most likely place for me to go would be Earth, and no doubt the federation would check there. But their forces would be spread across space so thin as a result of tracking down the escape pods; who knows how long it would be before they were able to search Earth. Besides, a fugitive running back to his home planet is too obvious a choice. The Grand Councilwomen wouldn't expect me to be so bold. That gave me an advantage. I had time on my side. The conditions were perfect. I had already managed to slip through her fingers twice. I could only hope that my luck lasted just a little longer. I was going to need it if I was going to land on a strange planet and expect to get out safely.

XXXX

I landed the pod at the end of a dark alleyway, right in the dead center of a vast city. It was a clumsy landing as I was unfamiliar with the controls, but at least I made it out in one piece. Like so many planets controlled by the Federation; this planet's flora and fauna had been paved over to make way for inevitable urbanization and endless conurbation. And as I walked down the pod's ramp, and onto the strange world; I recoiled in disgust and shielded my nose. The air was foul. It had the industrial and mechanical smell of car exhaust and sulfur. There must have been a factory nearby. How anything could live here and not die from suffocation was beyond my understanding.

"Chubi chipa," I said, squinting my watering eyes. "What a stench."

"Who's there?"

I gasped and accidentally sucked in a lungful of the foul smelling air. Coughing, I jumped to the ground and hid behind a pile of discarded boxes just as a short toad-like man, determined to see who had caused the disturbance no matter how long it took, came strolling down the alley. The Toad Man was short. He was about my height and had roughly the same width. His skin was green and his eyes were bulbous, he wore a tattered, tan colored trench coat tailored for someone of his–and my diminutive size.

_This one interests me._

Silently, I watched from behind a box as Toad Man approached my escape pod. A look of greed and desire came over his face. No doubt he was visualizing how much the pod would fetch him on the Black Market. This must have been his lucky day. A federation escape pod without anyone to claim it, and all his for the taking. But this time, my toad like friend was in for the surprise of a lifetime.

"Ooh, you a right down beauty you are." The Toad man said, running his hand along the pod's hull. "You'll fetch a fine price." He moved to go up the ramp, but I stepped from behind the boxes, aiming my blaster at his head.

"Hold it," I said.

The Toad man let out a terrified whelp and spun around, lost his footing and fell to the ground with a loud _"Ooph."_

Quickly I walked over to where he lay, making sure to keep my gun aimed at his head. I had to be cautiouse. You never know how these people will react once cornered.

"What'ya want!?" The Toad Man squealed. "Just take my money, but please don't be hurtin' me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said flatly. "I need to know where I can get a ship with hyperspace capabilities."

A green gel-like substances began leaking from his eyes and the Toad Man began sobbing. I cringed. It was a pitiful sight, and I was beginning to lose patience.

"Please," He begged. "Please, please, please, please–"

"Tell me where I can find a ship!" I finally yelled.

The man flinched and pulled himself together long enough to speak.

"D-down by the market," Toad Man cried. "Please don't hurt me. I-I have a wife and children."

Sadly, I frowned and lowered my weapon as guilt began to build up in my chest.

"You have a wife and kids?" I asked.

Nervously the Toad Man's eyes darted back and forth. "Well . . . no, not really," He admitted. "But someday I might."

I rolled my eyes and began to walk away. I was just about to leave the alley when I heard Toad Man's voice call me back.

"H-hey . . . your the man from the wanted sign,"Toad Man hollered. "I-I'm calling the federation."

I stopped dead in my tracks and whirled around. "Wanted sign?" I asked. But before he could answer, I lunged forward and bashed the back of Toad Man's head with the but of my blaster. Eyes widening, he let out a quick rush of air and collapsed.

_That should knock him out for a few hours. _I was about to turn and leave when I noticed the tattered, tan trench coat Toad Man was wearing. Even though it was old and little mistreated, it was a nice coat, and in my size.

"Hmm," I tapped the bottom of my chin in thought. "It is a nice coat," I said. "Ah, what the hell." Resting my blaster on the ground, I dropped to my knees, and with a great huff, rolled Toad Man onto his back and pulled off his trench coat.

For a moment I held it up, observing the stitching before finally nodding and slipping my arms into the sleeves and pulling up the collar. It was a perfect fit, it looked good on me, and as an added bonus: the material didn't make my fur itch. Curiously, I searched the pockets and just my luck, I found a couple thousand credits and a small knife.

Smiling, I looked down at Toad Man and nudged his unconscious body with my foot. "Thanks for the coat," I said. "You can keep the pod." He of course didn't answer. Grinning, I turned around, grabbed my blaster, stowed it in my pocket, and walked casually down the alleyway. My heart had been hammering the whole time . . .I just mugged a man.

When I emerged from the dark void of the alleyway, I was greeted by the usual hustle and bustle associated with a large city. It was daytime, but the suns were snuffed out by a bleak and cheerless blanket of grey clouds that cloaked the sky. The city itself was a vast metropolis. The Buildings were tall, some even tall enough to reach the sky; they were windowless and seemed to be made up of some strange black steel, and surprisingly the streets were paved with what appeared to be common asphalt.

The atmosphere was wet and damp, but terribly humid. I could already feel myself sweating under my trench coat. It looked like global warming hit this planet with a vengeance.

I looked up into the air, noticing with mild interest the large televisions attached only to the tallest buildings, all with the scowling face of the Grand Councilwomen shining vividly on their screens. Her loud, booming voice resounded throughout the city as she recited the laws of the Galactic Order.

"The galaxy wide curfew will be in effect in precisely, three hours, fifteen minutes, and eight seconds," She said. "All citizens found out after hours will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

I growled and watched the screen, angrily clenching my tiny fists. No matter where I went there she was. She was everywhere, and of course she would want to have her face barking orders on every planet. I wondered how the citizens were taking this. I looked around the bustling metropolis, and regarded the people. Citizens of a million different races marched steadily down the streets, but it didn't look to me as if they were walking. They all seemed to be fallowing an invisible flow, or a current. It was almost as if they were drifting. It was strangely eerie in its own way.

I could see their faces. Everyone of them all different shapes and sizes, but all wearing the same expression. They all looked so sad. Their faces were tired and their collective eyes looked dead. It was like watching a herd of zombies shuffle lazily down the street. I could only imagine what these people have gone through under the rule of the Grand Councilwomen. What harsh laws have these poor unfortunate bystanders been forced to swallow and obey? These people didn't deserve this. Their only crime was living. They didn't control who ran their government. I felt for these people . . . I really did. I knew what it was like to crumble underneath the Grand Councilwoman's radical authority, and what it was to be crushed underneath her conquering feet. She was a menace and had to be stopped.

_This coming from the experiment who just mugged a toad man for his tench coat and money. _I thought glumly.

"I'm sure he had it coming,"I said sourly, as if it justified my actions.

"Who are you talking to? A man who had been sitting quietly against the side of a building asked in a rough, grizzly tone.

"Uh . . .nothing," I said uneasily. "I was just thinking out loud." I went to leave but the man dived forward and grabbed my forearm. "H-hey! What are you do–"

"You look familiar," He said studying my features. Just then realization came over his face."Hey ya, your the guy from the wanted poster." The man smiled greedily and his grip tightened on my arm. "Ya, Ya, your him–your the guy!" His voice began to escalate and he was starting to attract some unwanted attention. People were starting to stare, and I was beginning to feel nervous.

"Let go idiot," I said trying to pull my arm free. But he wouldn't let me go.

"Na, I'm turning you in, I'm getting the reward, I'm gonna be rich!"

_He's obviously not going to see reason_

Growling, I slashed the man across the face, drawing thin lines of blood. He let out a great bellow and collapsed against the wall, wildly clutching his face.

I backed away but immediately regretted my actions. He was just a desperate man on the end of his luck. I tried to calm him down, but he wouldn't stop screaming. He was drawing far too much attention, he left me with no choice. As the man continued to scream, I removed my blaster from my pocket and bashed him hard on the knee. He screamed and fell to the ground.

"Sorry." I gave him a rough bash to the head and his screams cut short.

Sighing, I turned away from the unconscious man only to see an entire crowd of people gawking at me.

I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I had to come up with something fast.

"Uhh," I said looking back and forth. "Please excuse my friend . . . he is very drunk, so I had to," I made a swinging motion with my arm. "You know . . .knock him out."

The people watching me laughed and went on their way and I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God they didn't recognize me. Apparently my face was well known in these parts. I can't see how. I failed to see any wanted post–and that's when I spotted it.

My eyes widened and I ran across the street, forcing my way through the crowd and dodging a few vehicles as they zoomed by.

_This is not good, this can't be happening. _But there it was, black and white and clear as crystal. There, on the other side of the street was a circular, metal disk hovering a few feet above the ground, projecting 3-D holograms of advertisements and. . .WANTED POSTERS!

As I saw a hologram of Fletcher, Leroy, and myself floating above head I felt my stomach tighten. I got a good look at the hologram of myself and was a little disappointed. It was a image of me while I was staying in the infirmary. My face was thin, and my eyes were wild with an almost cannibalistic madness. Not one of my most flattering photographs. I could see why the federation chose this picture; I looked absolutely terrifying. The wanted poster was offering an award of Ten Million credits for my capture. That was quite a bounty. I suddenly felt very exposed. Nervously, I looked around at the nameless faces as they walked by and I pulled on my collar, trying to hide my face from their prying eyes. What was I doing walking out in the middle of a crowded street with such a large price on my head? Someone was going to see me. I had instincts, and they were telling me to hide myself–

"Blimey, what a disgusting creature."

I looked to my right and saw a another short, toad like man but this one was wearing a black business suit. He looked at my wanted poster with both interest and disgust.

"What a revolting and ugly image," He declared.

"Hey," I said defensively. "It's a mug shot. After weeks of starvation I bet _you_ wouldn't look so good either."

Offended, the Business Man turned towards me, intending to give me the tongue lashing of a lifetime, when he suddenly stopped right in the middle of saying "Now look here" as he got a look at my face. Eyes nearly bulging from his skull, his hand flew up to his mouth and he started forward.

"M-My word," He said. "Your the ghastly thing from the hologram."

Without thinking, I pulled my blaster from my pocket and used it to smash the business man across the head. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious. After all the people I had hit in the head, my blaster was beginning to get a small dent on its side.

"I better get out of here before I knock any more people unconscious." I said, turning around and vanishing into the crowd. It wouldn't be long before someone found the three people I introduced to the receiving end of my blaster. And when they did, Toad Man, Quiet Man, and Business Suit Man were going to tell them who had accosted them: 'a small, black and grey monster armed with a blaster,' they would say. I was running out of time. By landing here I had put myself in danger. I had to find a ship fast.

XXXX

My wearisome and seemingly unsuccessful search for a working spacecraft led me to the market and to an underground bunker. I was first drawn to the bunker by a loud pinging sound that reminded me of the gently chime of a triangle. It turned out it was just the sound of a woman using a hammer to pound away on a bent piece of pipe. The gentle chime of a triangle had now become the loud booming of a gong.

Frowning, I observed the bunker. It was a large rectangular room. It reminded me of one of those parking structures from my home planet. Thousands of ships of all shapes and designs were lined, row by row. I had obviously come to the right place.

I kept my hand in my pocket,and my fingers wrapped tightly around my blaster's handle. I might have to use it anytime. I felt it was best to not make my presence known so I stayed in the shadows, and silently regarded the rows of ships.

As I walked past, the woman who had been pounding on the piece of pipe looked up and dropped her hammer. I came to an abrupt stop and for a moment we stared at each other. She didn't seem afraid, just . . .cautious.

"H-Hello," She said uncertainly. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," I replied. "I'm looking for a ship."

A smile came over her face and her initial uncertainty was thrown to the wind.

"Yes of course," She said. "Just give me sec."

I watched with a cold expression as she climbed out if her overalls and let her hair down. I quirked an eyebrow. Despite a light coating of grease, she was actually very attractive. The woman was tall, thin, and had a similar appearance with the humans of Earth. The only difference I could find was that instead of five fingers, she had only four.

"So," The Woman said, walking towards me. "If you need a good ship at a low price then you've come to the right place." She sighed and wiped the seat from her brow with the back of her hand. "So, are you just going to stand there, lurking in the shadows or do you want to fallow me and find a ship?"

I didn't like how close she was getting. I hitched up my collar, but it didn't help much. If she was going to recognize me a collar certainly wouldn't stop her. I would hate to have to shoot her and steal one of these ships. I may be a little more lenient when it comes to the prospect of taking another life, but I would only kill when all other resources were exhausted and I absolutely had no other choice.

Initially I found her optimism a little uncomfortable. But meeting a woman who didn't want to kill you or chop off your gonads was actually quite refreshing. Unfortunately, my years spent in prison had killed any charm or gentlemanly features I might have once had. Now I only had my cold disposition. I must have come off quite cold. But she didn't seem to notice, or at least pretended not to.

Cautiously, I walked into the light expecting the worst. She didn't seem to recognize me–which good thing, but she did find my ragged and rough appearance a little unsettling. I bet that hologram of me was beginning to look pretty good now.

"Oh my God," She said scrunching her face. "You look like reheated death. Your skin and bones!"

I frowned. "Thank you," I said glumly. "What a nice way to break the ice. I bet you say that to everyone you meet."

"Oh I'm sorry," She said guilty. "Sometimes I say things before thinking about them first . . . would you like something to eat? You looked starved an inch from death."

I shook my head. "No, I just want a ship. I'm on a tight schedule and I don't have time to eat with strange women."

"Alright, you don't have to bite my head off." She waved me over and accompanied me along the rows of spacecrafts.

"I only have a few thousand credits." I told her as we passed ship after ship. None of them caught my fancy.

She laughed and shook her head. "That's okay. We'll find you a ship that matches your...um . . ._different_ personality.

I growled but let the comment slide. Every moment I spent talking with this women was another moment wasted.

For the next fifteen minutes, I was led pointlessly through row after row of spacecrafts without results. Some of the were nice but they weren't me. Some were too bulky and some were too flashy. I needed something sleek and fast. And none of these crafts fit my criteria. It wasn't about finding a ship. It was about finding the _right_ ship. It had to make a statement.

"What about his one?" She suggested. I looked to where she was pointing and my face soured. She had picked out a rust bucket who's wings and thrusters were held on by what appeared to be tape.

I gave her annoyed look and shook my head.

"Alright, do you have anything special in mind?"

I gave it some thought. "Yes," I said. "I want something small, inconspicuous, and do you have something in a black and grey? I have a weird fetish for the combination of those two colors."

"Hmm, maybe it's because your fur is black and grey," She said looking me up and down.

I scowled.

"Congratulations," I said monotonously. "You've cracked the case. Now can we get a move on? I don't have all day."

"Okay, I think I have the right ship for you."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. The ship she showed me was . . . in a word _perfect_. It had attitude, it had flair, and it was sleek. The frame reminded me of a small fighter jet. The ship had a cockpit large enough for one person, and two rectangular thrusters protruding from the back. Although faded, the ships hull was a velvety black with a grey stripe running down its center. I was rendered speechless.

"I think it's love at first sight," She said, smiling at my shocked expression. "Lets have a look inside her."

When I climbed into the cockpit, it felt right. The seat was a little moth eaten but it was comfortable. The throttle and all the switches were in reach. It was capable of reaching hyperspace and its weapon system was more than formidable. Now this ship made a statement. Literally, there was a sticker on the left side of the hull that read in big red letters: 'If you can read this then I'm probably up your ass.'

I smiled and ran my hands along the joystick. It was almost as if this ship was built for me and was waiting for me to come along and find it.

"How does it feel?" She asked.

"Wonderful." I tapped pressed a few buttons and was delighted when they lit up. "It's big and it's mine."

"So you want it then?"

I nodded and threw her the credits. "That's all I got."

She took a moment to count the credits, and then nodded. "Okay, she's all yours." Turing around, she walked away and headed for the other end of the bunker.

At the press of a button, the cockpit closed and the engines powered up. These thrusters were much more quieter when compared to the B.R.B. I wasn't complaining. I actually preferred it that way. I pulled back on the throttle and the spacecraft lifted a few feet of the ground. I could feel the power of the ship. It was small but it was powerful. But I had enough of this planet and it was time for me to leave.

Laughing, I thrust the joystick forward and the ship took off; the other ships were nothing more than a blur of color as I sped past. That's when I came up with the perfect name for my ship. I was going to call it 'the Valkyrie.'

I pulled back on the throttle and bright blue flames exploded from the thrusters, sending me rocketing out the bunker's front entrance and into the atmosphere. At the rate I was going I would clear the planets gravitational pull in a mere ten seconds.

"Computer, activate the Hyperdrive."

No response. Upon further investigation, I discovered that the on board computer was on the fritz.

"I'll have to fix that when I get back to Earth." I grabbed hold of a lever protruding from the dashboard, pulled it, and twisted its handle.

"HYPERDRIVE ACTIVATED. SYTEM CHARGING"

"Well, at least the voice works." I slammed the lever back into the dashboard and the Valkyrie sped into Hyperdrive, exceeding light speed, and bringing me ever closer to my final destination: Earth. I would arrive in three days. But until then, I was going to get some rest. I had a lot to do when I finally returned home.

Frowning, I looked through the cockpit and into space as it zoomed by in an dazzling spiral of colors and light. "So much to do," I whispered.

* * *

**Alius111: I felt that this chapter was a little weak and a little rushed in the end. But I just wanted to get this one out of the way so Simon could finally get back to Earth, which will be happening in the next chapter! How will the Simon react when he is reunited with his family? How will the Ohana react to Simon's surprise visit? You'll have to wait for the next chapter. But until then, Please Review.**


	14. Who Says You Can't Go Home Again?

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Who Says You Can't Go Home Again?**

My stomach gave an angry growl, I gulped and began rubbing my belly. I hadn't eaten anything in almost four days. I could practically feel my stomach sucking up against my spine. I was only a few hours away from Earth. I hoped I wouldn't starve to death before I got there; which was becoming more likely as the minutes ticked pass. I suddenly regretted not taking up that woman's offer for something to eat. At the thought of food my stomach groaned. I searched the ship for food but it was all in vain. There wasn't even a crumb for me to suck on. But now that I think about it: I'm not sure I would want to eat something I found hidden away in this ship.

"Just a few more hours." I moaned. I found myself becoming tired. Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea. It would help time go by faster. Yawning, I closed my eyes and leaned up against the back rest, I slept the rest of the way. . .

XXXX

WARNING SYSTEM MALFUNCTION, came the voices monotone announcement.

"Huh? What" I was jarred from my rest as the Valkyrie's engines suddenly died and the ship was thrust from hyperspace. The stars, which were nothing more than distant streams of light came to an abrupt halt and reverted to shining dots; the swirling mass of color that spiraled around the cockpit dissolved, transforming back into an empty black void.

Frightfully, I searched the dashboard, pressing random buttons, hoping to get a response. The ship gave a final lurch forward, the seatbelt snapped, sending me face first into the windshield.

"Dammit!" I cursed angrily.

"Hello, Sir or Madam." Said a mechanical voice that strangely held the tone of a female. "My name is Karen103-ModelA15, Your on board computer."

After I manged to peel my face from the glass, I sat back down in my seat which sighed a large plume of dust. The voice was coming from the small computer terminal on the dashboard which had unexpectedly come to life. I scowled and madly slammed my fists on the armrest as I was greeted by what looked like a small blue pacman.

"Oh sure, now you work," I said, trying in vain to restart the engines. Growling when the ignition gave no response, I crawled down onto the floor and opened the service hatch which revealed the ships mechanical innards. The wires seemed to be covered with a century of dust, and the fuel cells(Which were apparently never supposed to run out) were almost dry.

I growled and began crossing wires.

"You are now approaching Quadrant 17, Section 005, Area 51, Planet Earth."

"What!?" I jumped up and banged my head on the dashboard. Pain exploded from the top of my head and I feared I might have cracked my skull.

Swearing in every language I knew, I peeked over the control panel and out the windshield. My frustration immediately dissolved as I was left in awe at the sight of the wondrous image before me.

Planet Earth, our mother, and my home, a colossal blue orb deluded with whiffs of cloud large enough to shield entire continents. The right side of the planet was completely blotted out and shrouded in darkness. It was night in that hemisphere. Never had I seen such a beautiful sight. As I gazed in awe at the sphere I felt a warmness spread through my heart. A tear fell down my face. I felt like I was coming home. It had been too long since I had gazed upon Earth's natural beauty and saw the majesty that was the polar ice caps. The only thing more tragic than having to leave my home was the thought that it was being spoiled by the very creatures who confessed to love it so much.

WARNING, NOW ENTERING THERMOSPHERE .

I was ripped from my thoughts as tremors began to rock the ship. Without warning the Valkyrie fell into an sharp nose dive, plummeting towards the planets surface as it was pulled in by the Earth's uncompromising gravitational field.

"Computer access the reserve power cells." My voice was shrill and panicked. I looked to the computer screen and growled in frustration as I saw the computer screen had gone blank.

Intense friction began to build up as the Valkyrie rocketed through the atmosphere; a casing of fire entombed and swirled around my ship; to anyone on Earth, the Valkyrie would appear to be nothing more than a falling star. I was surprised by how fast I was heading towards the surface. Steadily the black void gave away to a bright blue sky and the tremors shacking my ship like a baby's rattle only intensified. The planet had me and it was sucking me in like a maelstrom does a sailboat. If I didn't get the engines started soon, my return trip to Earth was going to begin with a very large bang.

Teeth chattering, I pushed the ignition. No response.

"Okay . . .Now I'm a little worried." Desperately I racked my brain for a solution, but I can't think well under pressure. The planet's surface was rapidly approaching at an alarming rate. I could see mountains and the minute outline of Hawaii getting closer and closer with each passing second.

Frantically, I pulled on the throttle and slammed my fists down on random buttons; attempting anything to get the engines online.

"Hello, Sir or Madam. My name is Karen103-ModelA15, Your on board computer."

I did a double take and gawked at the screen as I was once again greeted by a smiling blue pacman.

"I don't have time for this," diving down onto the floor, I began stripping wires with my teeth and forcibly twisted their ends together. I received a slight electric shock which caused me to withdraw my hand in pain.

"Hello, Sir or Madam. My name is Karen103-ModelA15, Your on board computer."

"Shut up!" I snatched a red wire and quickly rerouted it to the reserve power supply. I prayed this would work. If it didn't I was going to be nothing more than a smocking crater in less than 35 seconds. I sat up in my chair, my finger poised over the ignition. I pressed the button and slammed my fists down onto the control panel when the engines gave no response. I looked out the cockpit and observed solid land as it came rushing towards me.

"Dammit, I'm going to crash!"

"Warning crash is imminent." The computer said.

Growling, I pounded my claws against the computer screen. "I KNOW!"

"Hello, Sir or Madam. My name is Karen103-ModelA15, Your on board computer."

"That's it, I've had enough of you, you monotone succubus!" I wretched my blaster form my pocket and pointed it at the terminal. "If I go down I'm taking you down with me bitch." I pulled the trigger and the screen exploded in a blast of sparks and broken glass. Using my sleeve, I shielded my face from the shrapnel and threw my gun onto the floor, I felt very satisfied. Just then, as the computer screen was blasted into oblivion–taking Karen along with it; the most remarkable thing happened: the engines suddenly sprung to life almost as if the computer had somehow been draining their power.

"I don't believe it." I pulled back on the throttle and the ship pulled out of it's nose dive, slowing and becoming stabilized–and not a moment too soon. The Valkyrie slammed into the Earth, punching a massive crater into it's surface. I was thrown forward but was kept from getting injured by the vice like grip I had on my armrests. Everything went black as loose soil blanketed the cockpit, cutting me off from the outside. The ship rocked and swayed before finally going still. The engines died and the buttons on the dashboard went out. The force of the impact seemed to knock my ship into a coma.

For a moment I sat rigidly in my chair, panting and wiping the sweat from my brow. It hadn't been a graceful landing, I was lucky I wasn't killed. But at least I made it. I was home.

Amazed, I looked around the cockpit, a smile coming over my face. The realization suddenly came over me. I was home. I felt such a sense of accomplishment and soulfulness it was almost overwhelming. After all the months of fantasizing in prison, after all the hardships and the prayers that I might one day escape and see my family; I was finally here. I faced my enemies and had come out triumphant and determined. Prison Asteroid K-37 was a thing of the past. I was home now, and I was never going to leave.

I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, letting a sigh of relief escape. Nothing could spoil this moment–

"Hello, Sir or Madam. My name is Karen103-ModelA15, Your on board computer."

My eyes shot open, and I stared at the terminal in disbelief. The computer terminal lay broken and shattered, emanating bright yellow sparks. "How could you still be working!?" I roared.

The broken mouth of the computer terminal smiled at me in mused silence, almost as if it was mocking me.

I fumed and wildly began searching for my blaster. I was going to send that damn computer to Hell where it belonged. Regrettably I was unable to locate my weapon; during the crash the blaster had fallen into the service hatch–which I wisely forgot to close.

_Simon get a hold of yourself, _My mind said rationally. _Your trying to kill a computer._

Angrily, I slapped my forehead and began rubbing my temples. I was under so much stress. With the threat of ramming into the Earth and dying a terrible fiery death out of the way; I suddenly came to terms with the intense hunger gnawing away at my insides. I needed something to eat. I wasn't going to get food if I stayed in here.

"I need to get out of here," My eyes searched out the lever that would open the cockpit. When I located the lever, I leaned forward to grab it, but my hand paused.

What was I waiting for? This is what I wanted. I was home. Why did I suddenly feel so uneasy? A thought suddenly occurred to me. My greatest concern was escaping from prison. I've done that. Now that I was here; I had to ask myself, how was my family going to react? I had caused so much pain and suffering. I dissected my brother and left him to die, I destroyed the house, tried to kill my father, and slaughtered an entire town. Who's to say they weren't relieved when I was hauled off to prison. And Elvis . . .

My brow furrowed and I bared my fangs, letting a growl escape my throat. "Elvis," I said with hatred.

He framed me, he tried to kill me. I had almost forgotten. He made everyone believe I hurt Lilo in an attempt to kill him. And they believed him. It was his fault. I could feel the rage bubbling up inside my gut. All the emotions and all the negative feelings I had for my brother resurfaced with a vengeful abhorrence. He had to pay, he had to answer for what he did. Now I had another reason for returning to Earth: I was going to reveal to them what Elvis did and expose him for the monster he really is. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. After what I've been through and after what I've seen; a bullying brother with homicidal tendencies should be a walk in the park. Sometimes I yearn for days when my only fear was another fierce beating at the hands of my brothers. At least then, everything made sense.

Thoughts of the revenge driving me, I pulled back on the lever and the cockpit opened like a crocodile's mouth, exposing me to the bright sunlight. The first thing that hit me was the air. It was do dewy sweet I could taste the distinct flavor of mangoes and water in my mouth. The faint smell of rain clung to the atmosphere, the dew drops on the leaves were like thousands of pearly tears. It must have rained recently.

Stepping out of my ship, I climbed up the edge of the crater and walked onto the plush ground; the moist soil sunk underneath my feet, it was like stepping onto a mossy carpet. A tropical wood abundant in palm trees, exotic flowers, and leafy plants surrounded me like an endless conservatory. My ship had carved a large hole into the earth and it almost seemed like a perversion to taint this natural setting with my machinery. I could hear the far away sound of the ocean somewhere beyond the shrubs, I could smell the salt on the air–for some reason it made me think of seaweed. In prison I only dreamed of four things: reuniting with my family, getting revenge on Elvis, gazing upon a Hawaiian sunset one more time, and swimming in the ocean. Now I could do all those things, and they would be sweet. I couldn't take it anymore! I had to see the water.

Shrugging off my trench coat and peeling the medicated bandages from my body, I ran through the forest, reveling as fresh air filled my lungs, and delighting in the feeling of the moist leaves brushing against my face as I ran past. My excitement grew as I neared the end of the wood; the sound of rushing water grew louder with each step. I emerged from the forest, coming face to face with a long sandy beach. I stared quietly at the water, entranced by its splendor. The ocean was like millions of sparkling diamonds. It was so beautiful. I closed my eyes, listening to the soothing sound of the waves washing over the shore. I dropped to my knees and scooped up a handful of sand, letting it fall between my fingers; I could feel each grain of sand as it ran through my fur. It was so warm. I was finally home. I wanted to be as close to it as possible. I wanted to rub the sand all over my body; I wanted to jump into the water and swim until I couldn't hold my breath any longer, and that's just what I did. Treading through the sand, I ran across the beach and dove head first into the water. My entire body clenched and the air rushed out of my lungs as I felt the refreshing cold of the ocean wash over me. I felt weightless. It had been so long since I went swimming, it was almost too good to be true. And for once . . . it wasn't.

I continued to float around in the water before finally coming back up for air. If I could have, I would've stayed submerged all day. The water was freezing but I still felt warm. It was the warm feeling of homecoming. I almost felt reborn. I had spent so much time in the confines of steel walls and darkness, I almost forgot what it was like to touch sand and swim in water, it was euphoric. At that moment, I didn't care what my family would say when I suddenly walked through the front door. I was home.

As much as I would have liked to, I couldn't waste my entire day swimming in the ocean. There would be time for play later. Right now it was all business. First I had the rigorous task of hiding my ship–no doubt someone noticed me land. That presented a problem. The only thing I could do was cover it in leaves and hope no one noticed the awkward pile of shrubbery they walked past was in fact an interstellar spacecraft. But that might have been asking too much. Secondly I had to decide my first move. What was I going to tell my family when I saw them? Should I tell them the truth and confess that I escaped from prison? How should I even begin to tell them what really happened? I guess I would decide when I saw them. I was looking forward to seeing my father the most–which surprised me. I would have thought Jumba would have been my first choice, but he wasn't. I missed my father terribly. I missed his goofy smile and the childish manner in which he conducted himself. I hope he would be just as happy to see me.

I walked down the town streets, my fur drying in the sunlight, shuffling on all fours like a mangy hound. I watched the people as they walked past, an ear open for mistrust. They didn't even notice me. I might as well have been invisible. Not much had changed, the small Hawaiian town was exactly how I remembered it. It was never busy, but there was always someone on the streets. I pointed out Mrs. Hasagawa's fruit stand and smiled in glee. I remembered that adorable albeit forgetful old women. She always had the best pineapple. The thought of fresh fruit made my mouth water uncontrollably. I was still so hungry. If I didn't get something in my stomach soon I was going to faint.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look a doggy!"

I looked up and frowned. A little chocolate covered girl was running towards me with her arms outstretched. Her mother, who looked as though she was around her early 40's didn't look very spry. She could barely keep up with her younger counterpart.

"Sweety wait," the mother gasped, clutching her chest. The girl didn't seem to hear the older woman's call. Either that or she was just entirely ignoring her, and why wouldn't she? There was a mangy black and grey dog on the street with no tags or collar. My apparent lack of an owner was probably the catalyst for the greedy expression that crossed her face. I always hated earth children.

"Can we keep him mommy?" The girl asked. Smiling, she reached out and gave my ear a painful tug. It was all I could do to keep from snapping her little fingers off. But as a warning, I let a deep growl rattle my vocal cords and the girl submitted, her eyes wide with panic.

The mother immediately recoiled and pulled her daughter away. "No dear," She said frightfully. "I'll get you a different dog."

_That's right, you keep on running you little brat, _I thought as I watched the mother and her daughter walk speedily down the street. I wasn't going to be anyones pet. It's bad enough that I have to pose as a dog. If the mother had said yes, I would've had no choice but to bite her. And considering the rank stench wafting from a nearby fish cart; that didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Just then, something caught my attention. Curiously, I looked up at the tip of a nearby office building, noticing the roof was a little blackened; the edge of its siding was charred and burned away. I checked the roofs of neighboring structures and found similar black markings tainting their faces. Those marks were made by plasma cannons. The only evidence of Hamsterviel's attack. The federation cleaned up good. The town looked perfect and the populace didn't remember a thing. It was the same ordeal after I was taken away. The federation instantly stepped in, made repairs, and wiped memory's. Now nobody remembers the horrible black beast with the green eyes that terrorized their small Hawaiian community. It was probably for the best. I didn't want to be remembered as a monster.

As I walked by Lilo's dancing school, I was filled with dread. Half of the roof was caved in and had collapsed. By the scorch marks burned into the debris, I knew the school had been another casualty caused by Hamsterviel's diabolical lust for power–for my experiment. Lilo must have been crushed. I suddenly felt compelled to make it up to her–assuming that she would talk to me of course. What if she turned me in to the federation? No, that was absurd. Lilo would never do that. But as I looked back, watching as her dance school vanished behind a veil of tall, shady palm trees; I couldn't help but wonder what shape I would find the house in. That was the first place Hamsterviel would look. I could only pray that it was still intact.

Thankfully the house was still standing when I arrived shortly after dodging another couple who thought I was just the cutest little thing. When I walked around the corner and into the driveway, my face fell and my shoulders sagged. The driveway was empty, the lights were out, they weren't home. I wonder where they could be? I guess they were in for a big surprise when they came back from wherever they had gone and found me sitting on the couch. I could already see the looks of shock dominating their expressions. I wonder how long it would take those faces to turn angry . . .

After my indiscretions, the house had been completely rebuilt. It was just how I remembered it: A large beach house built on top of a grassy hill, painted light blue, with red metal slates for a roof. A high tower that looked very much out of place jutted from the center of the house like a watch tower. Three domes–which were actually bedrooms were built into its shaft–except for the third dome which sat perched on the head of the spire . . .that was Elvis' room. Before I moved into my lab my brother and I used to share that bedroom. I frowned as unpleasant memories resurfaced. It wasn't a happy time.

I walked up the wooden steps and onto the front porch. I could feel the anticipation swelling up inside me. Even though nobody was home; I still felt nervous. When I reached out and turned the knob–I breathed a sigh of relief. The door was unlocked. The latch gave a small click and the door swung open. I was greeted by a chilling silence. The furniture lay innocently in their places, doing nothing but collecting dust. There was the couch, the television, the bookshelf by the door. It all seemed so familiar and yet . . . _false–a_lmost like it was trying too hard to look normal. Instead of feeling happy or warmth–I suddenly felt as if I didn't belong. The living room was giving off a strange vibe. It wasn't dangerous just . . . _repressive_. I lived here. Why did I feel like I was breaking and entering? It was strange for Nani to leave the door unlocked. She always locks it. Was she expecting someone? Was I expected? I suddenly feared at trap. Frantically, I looked around the living room, wildly searching for any signs of danger. Was this a trap? Did the Grand Councilwoman know I would come here? Any second now were federation soldiers going to kick down the door and take me away?

When nothing happened I still found myself expecting danger to appear around every corner. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I didn't belong here. It wasn't too late, I could just walk away, head back to my ship and fly to Argon 7. I'm sure Fletcher would be more than happy to see me. But I had come so far. After all the planning and all the scheming I finally reached my goal. All of it had been so I could see my home again. But now I wasn't sure it was such a good idea.

My stomach gave an angry growl. Moaning, I rubbed my belly and gazed longingly into the kitchen. Maybe Nani had something to eat. The thought of meat, potato chips, and ice cream drove me across the living room and into the kitchen. It too looked exactly as I remembered. It was your average kitchen. It had stove and a refrigerator. A pile of dirty dished lay discarded on the counter, little bits of food still clung to their surface, I could tell by the state of disarray they left shortly after breakfast and had been in a hurry. Maybe they went to the beach. Maybe I should have checked their first before coming here. Oh well, it was too late now. I was here and had to make the best of it.

Suddenly a loud creaking sound echoed through the kitchen. Someone was coming through the front door!

Stifling a yell, I ran and jumped underneath the table, hiding myself behind a chair; just as I heard heavy footsteps enter the room. Silently, I watched as two large, elephant-like feet marched across the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"You can be putting grocery's in refrigerator!"

I gasped. It was Jumba! I peeked from under the chair and observed Jumba as he began pushing aside containers, making room for the new grocery's. He wore his usual earth attire, consisting of a yellow Hawaiian shirt that was too tight and a pair of black pants. Even though I was hiding under a chair and could see nothing but his massive hindquarters. It was still good to see him.

"Why can't we just put them in my fridge!?" A voice I didn't recognize called from outside.

"Don't be silly," Jumba said throwing out an expired carton of milk. "There is being plenty of room. At this rate we are soon to be finishing experiment!"

I couldn't wait any longer. He was bound to notice me hiding underneath the table, and when he did how was I going to explain that? I had to face him eventually, it might as well be now.

Nervously, I climbed out from underneath the table and stood upright. Jumba climbed to his feet, tossing aside a container of raspberry's. I don't think he heard me.

I tried to say something; my words caught in my throat and died before I could make a sound. But then it was too late. The person outside called out, asking Jumba whether he wanted the halibut. Even before he answered the strangers call, I knew I was caught.

Jumba groaned. "No, I am not wanting–" He turned around and stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened, a loud croaking sound emanated from his throat. The can of mustard he held in his hand dropped to the floor; the lid burst open, spilling mustard all over the tiles, but it went unnoticed.

"H-Hi Jumba," I said quietly.

"S-Simon?" Swaying, Jumba fell to his knees, clutching the fridge door for support. He said nothing, said nothing. Both of us were at a loss for words; we just stood there staring at each other. I wanted to say something, but I was tongue tied. Jumba was the first to break the silence. "I-I am, not believing it," Jumba said. "You are back."

"Yes, I'm back," I said drooping my ears.

"Jumba! Do you want the . . . who's this?"

I looked behind me and saw a strange female experiment standing in the door frame, holding a small package of fish in her short black claws. She seemed confused at first but regarded me with interest.

"Uh," Jumba looked to the female experiment. She tilted her head, staring intently in my direction.

"Who's this?" She asked again.

Jumba jumped as if awakening from a trance and apologized. "Oh yes, please to be excusing me," he said promptly. "628, this is . . . _Simon_."

"628?" I looked over at the female who stood cautiously by the door. She was a very feminine looking experiment with the standard koala-like appearance. I looked her up and down, taking into account the firm outline of breasts in her fur. She was very attractive. Maybe it's just because I haven't seen a female of my species in so long, but I had to admit she was a gorgeous creature. 628 was about my height, standing just a few centimeters shorter than myself. Her fur was snow white with light grey patches on her chest, abdomen, and around her eyes. Her body was muscular and tight but not in a masculine way. (Trust me, nothing about her voluptuous figure suggested that she was in anyway male) Her eyes were black and lustrous, the light almost made them appear bright and glossy. Her ears were big and white, resembling my father's; two thin shoulder-length tentacles protruded from her head, and rested on her shoulders, the tips ending in a slight curl.

She smirked. "Oh, really?" Raising her arm, the package of fish floated from her hand and fell onto the kitchen table. "So, your the Simon, Jumba has told me so much about," She looked me up and down. "No offense, but you look like crap."

I scowled but ignored her comment. "You activated 628?" I asked glancing in Jumba's direction.

Jumba nodded. "Yes, shortly after you were leaving a–just a moment." He stammered, choosing his next words carefully. "How is it that you are here and not in Asteroid of inescapable prisons?"

"Uh . . . I got out on parole," I said it before I could stop myself. Maybe if 628 wasn't there, listening to our conversation I would have told him the truth. But as it was, I could not.

"That is wonderful," Jumba said overjoyed. "626 will be very happy to be seeing you again."

I nodded and folded my arms behind my back. "Where is he by the way?"

"He is with little girl."

"Okay," I said.

The conversation dried up after that. The initial awkwardness and surprise of my reappearance was back, acting with new found resolve almost as if it was insulted by being pushed aside by two old friends catching up.

"Um, excuse me." Both of us turned our heads in 628's direction. "This is really none of my business," she said, backing out of the room. "You two obviously have catching up to do. I'll just put the rest of the grocery's in my fridge." 628 spared me a final glance before exiting.

When she left, I frowned and climbed onto a chair. Jumba looked down and sighed when he noticed the large puddle of mustard on the floor. Quickly he grabbed a rag from the sink and began wiping it up.

"Would you like to be telling me how you really left prison," Jumba asked after five awkward minutes of silence. "I am doubting they discharged you on good behavior."

I inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the question. Now I had to tell him. I knew Jumba wouldn't be fooled so easily. "I escaped," I confessed. "I heard Hamsterviel attacked Earth, so I escaped."

Jumba nodded and threw the mustard soaked rag into the sink. "How?" He asked, pulling up a chair.

I hesitated before answering. "Have you ever heard of a man called Fletcher?"

"Yes, I have," He said frowning. "Fletcher is the man who my ex-wife was leaving me for."

My eyes widened, but I tried to hide my surprise. So Jumba was the fat ass of a scientist Fletcher's girlfriend left him for. Small world.

"Well . . ." Nervously I tapped my claws on the table. "He helped me escape."

Jumba fell silent. Just then my stomach gave a loud growl and I was reminded of my ravenous hunger.

"Are you wanting something to eat?" Jumba asked amused.

I looked down at my rumbling gut, gently rubbing my abdomen. "Yes," I replied. "I haven't eaten in days."

Nodding Jumba stood and headed for the fridge, the chair he sat in gave a loud moan as it was relieved of his massive hindquarters. I could see Jumba had done nothing to lose weight. If anything he had gained a few pounds. I watched my friend as he piled food from the fridge and into his arms; I noticed how much older he looked. His steps were paced and sluggish, his movements were slower, and the three lonely hairs on his head had succumb to a light grey tone. It was then that I realized Jumba was getting older. In the light of the fridge, I could see the onset of wrinkles underneath his eyes. It was almost tragic to see him in this state. The last time I saw him he looked so youthful. Now as he groaned ever time he sat down, I truly became aware of his mortality.

"Where is Lilo and my brothers?" I asked as Jumba placed a large pile of food on the table.

"Little girl is with Nani," he said sitting down in his chair. "I am not knowing where young experiments are."

I nodded and picked out a spotted pear from the pile. Mouth watering, I took a bite and swallowed the sweet juices that came pouring from the green fruit.

"It is good to have you back home where you are belonging," Jumba said, smiling. I could tell he was trying to initiate conversation.

"Thank you, it's good to be back." I threw the rest of the pear into my mouth and swallowed. "I missed it here."

Jumba smiled. "626 has been nervous wreck since you left. He will be plenty happy when he learns you are here. Much happiness will come from this."

"Did he really miss me?" I asked, grabbing a yogurt.

"Oh yes," Jumba nodded. "626 is caring great deal about you."

My face remained blank but I felt grateful on the inside. It was incredible how easy it was to have a conversation with Jumba. Even after all this time. He didn't treat me like a delinquent or as a criminal. He acted as if I was just a good friend who had gone away for a while. I smiled to myself and began eating my yogurt. Jumba really was my best friend.

"So . . .tell me about 628," I said, taking a bite of blueberry yogurt.

Jumba grinned mischievously and stood from his chair. "628 is magnificent genius experiment. Much evil potential!" He laughed diabolically and headed for the hallway. "But it is better if I am showing you. Please to be waiting here."

I waited as Jumba walked to his room and returned seconds later, carrying his circular laptop. Anxiously, he placed the laptop on the table and opened the lid. The computers screen flashed green, and Jumba began typing on the keypad. When he accessed his experiment files and opened a file labeled 628, a picture of a very different experiment appeared on the screen.

"Who's that?" I asked pointing to the screen. The experiment depicted in the file had the same build and form as 628 but looked very different. Instead of white and grey, this experiment's fur was an angry and powerful shade of red with lighter red patches on her chest, around her eyes, and inner ear. Her tentacles(which were a dark shade of maroon) didn't stop at her shoulders; they were thick and went all the way down to her feet, ending in sharp points. Fascinated I gazed at the picture. This experiment looked nothing like 628. While they shared the same figure, the experiment on the screen looked sexual and violent. The deadly look in her black eyes acted as a window into the raw power that surged inside of her, waiting to burst out in a fiery rage. 628 looked sweet and attractive, but this creature was dark and lustful. There was noway they were the same person.

"That is 628 when first activated." Jumba said. "628 was changing appearance because she was believing that she looked too terrifying to be sociable." Jumba smiled and noticed the wide-eyed stare I was giving the picture. "I am guessing by the look you are giving image, you like what you see. Maybe I should be leaving you and computer screen alone."

"That won't be necessary," I said tearing my gaze away from the laptop. "I just find the picture fascinating . . . from a scientific point of view of course." Nervously, I gulped and forced myself not to look at the screen. I could feel myself beginning to sweat and it had nothing to do with Hawaii's warm climate. "W-why don't you tell me who–_what!_ She can do."

Smiling, Jumba prepared himself for a lengthy speech. "628, is the strongest of my genius creations. She is twice as strong as 627 and as indestructible as 626." I nodded and listened intently. I didn't want to miss a moment of it. "628 is able to withstand almost any amount of physical trauma. Her most recognizable ability is her nearly unlimited telekinetic and telepathic prowess. 628 is not capable of generating her own power so she must be draining it from other sources–such as the sun or another living creature. She is able to store unthinkable amounts of energy in her body and when fully charged–her psychic abilities are near infinite! Even is to be rivaling the power of your Experiment O."

I scoffed. "Yes, I doubt that–"

"But!" Jumba cut across. "Perhaps her most dangerous attribute is her ability to telekinetically manipulate matter, and her power to wield any form of energy in magnitudes only limited by her imagination and ability to control them." Jumba smiled triumphantly and closed his laptop. "Very evil experiment no?"

"That's very impressive," I admitted. I imagined if my Experiment O and 628 ever had to duke it out, it would be quite the spectacle. They would tear this planet apart before a victor was decided.

"Yes, but unfortunately," Jumba added, sitting down in his chair, weak-kneed. "628 is a failed experiment."

"Why is she a failed experiment?" With all of her attributes, being indestructible and so powerful. I couldn't see how 628 could be a failure.

"Because," Jumba replied. "For all of her abilities, she is having no will to be using her powers for destruction." He sighed and ran his massive hand over the lid of his laptop. "She refuses to fallow her programing and must eat, sleep, and breath to sustain herself. Therefore, a complete failure."

I had already finished my yogurt and had now moved onto a can of whip cream. From a scientific point of view 628's distaste for mass destruction would constitute a failure, but from a social standing; being docile was actually a positive aspect. I would have to keep an eye on this Experiment 628.

"What name did Lilo give her," I asked as I threw the now empty can of whip cream over my shoulder.

"628 was not wanting a name from little girl," he said. "Little girl was wanting to call her Phoenix, but 628 would have none of it–OH, and speaking of little girl." He sat up and looked out the window. "Here she comes now with Nani and 626."

I looked out the kitchen window to where Jumba was pointing and saw Nani's car pull into the driveway. Gasping, I jumped from my chair and darted around the kitchen.

"What is wrong?" Jumba asked alarmed.

"I-I just decided I can't do this," I said, nervously pacing back and forth. "I can't face them."

Jumba scoffed and waved my comment away. "Nonsense, 626 and little girl will be very happy to see you." As the sound of the car doors slamming, Jumba got up from his chair and strolled into the living room, heading towards the front door. A moment later I heard a creak and barrage of loud voices. I cringed as Nani's shrill squawk stabbed at my ears.

"That is the last time I'm taking Stitch with us to a restaurant!" I heard Nani yell.

"It wasn't Stitch's fault!" Lilo retorted. "Myrtle threw spaghetti at him first!"

"Lolo! He didn't have to throw marinara sauce at her AND her mother!"

MYRTLE NALA QUEESTA!" I heard my father yell gleefully.

"Sorry to be interrupting," Jumba said, his voice carrying into the kitchen. "But I have a someone who would like to see you. 626, come with me."

Sighing, I braced myself to face my father.

"Jumba?" Lilo complained as she was pushed into the kitchen. "What's the surpri–" She stopped short when she saw me standing in the middle of the room. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "It's Simon."

When Nani spotted me her face went blank, her expression becoming unreadable.

"Simon?" I looked up and noticed my father staring at me.

"H-Hi Dad," I said.


	15. Reunion and a Secret Revealed

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Reunion And A Secret Revealed**

The kitchen went quiet. I stared at their alert faces and saw only surprise, mistrust, uncertainty, and apathy. Without speaking, I looked up at Nani. She was silent, her face was distraught and unsure. She seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil. She was probably having doubts. Myrtle and fiasco with the marinara sauce was a thing of the past. Now I was here, in her home. What would she do?

"Simon."

I dropped my gaze, frowning as I saw my Father crossing the kitchen. His steps were quick but at the same time cautious. Was he being careful? Did he think I might attack him? When I spoke I tried to make my voice sound as friendly as possible. But it tragically fell short, coming of as cold and scratchy from long periods of remaining silent.

"Hi Dad," I repeated. "It's been a long time."

My father smiled and hugged me fondly. "Stitch so happy to see you," He said quietly.

I smiled but didn't return his embrace. "I missed you too Father." I murmured.

My Dad sniffed, his arms tightened around me as if he was afraid I might slip away. Was he crying? Did he really miss me that much? Just knowing he was sincerely happy to see me made me feel warmer than I had in years. But how were the others reacting? I looked over my Father's shoulder and spotted Lilo. She was smiling but her eyes were distrustful. She was wary . . . like her sister. Still unsure.

"How did Simon get here?" My Father asked tearfully.

The question caught me off guard. I almost blurted out the truth before I could stop myself.

"Well . . .I–"

"Simon, was let out on parole," Jumba said instantly. His tone was wild and desperate to be heard. My breath stopped dead in my throat. My Father looked up at the raving scientist, tilting his head in interest. The news seemed to please him. I breathed a sigh of relief. But it was time to face the other members of my family.

Frowning, I allowed my dad one more hug before I pulled away and approached Lilo. As I stepped across the kitchen she smiled warmly in my direction; but I quickly noticed her body went rigid with each step I took. I tried my best to look friendly, but it was difficult when your in the state I was. I must have looked like a monster.

"Hello Lilo," I said, smiling.

Hi, Simon," She replied.

Lilo had grown since I last saw her. She shot up a couple of inches since I left: her head now reached up to Nani's stomach. Lilo wasn't a little girl anymore. She must have been around twelve or thirteen. Even her wardrobe had changed. Instead of a short red muumuu, she wore a pair short blue jeans and a red floral shirt with white flowers stitched into the bright red fabric. Lilo was definitely taking after her older sister in terms of appearance. She was starting to get a figure. But her growing maturity and quickening development still wasn't able to hide the childish glee in her smile or that mischievous glow in her eyes. Even after all this time, she was still the same old Lilo.

I patted her on the shoulder and looked up at Nani. "It's good to see you too, Nani."

A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she nodded her head.

"Ya," She said, "good to see you too."

Nani was still unsure about me. But it didn't matter. What needed to be said was said. I didn't expect it to work out right away. I had to take it one little baby step at a time. This was my home, but it still felt unnatural. I felt like I was trying to squeeze my way into something that didn't fit me. I suppose I would have to make the best of it. Unfortunately any chance of reconciling I might have had was ruined by my Father who suddenly felt the need to yell out.

"That's great!" My Father yelled out. Excited, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and began leading me into the living room. The others quickly fallowed . . .

I sat on the sofa, watching the surrounding bodies as they stared at me with their strange, distrusting eyes. Except for Jumba and my Father who were absolutely beaming. Lilo seemed happy enough. Well, maybe 'happy' wasn't the right word. She was more . . ._watchful_. Yes, that sounds right. I could tell she didn't entirely trust me, neither did Nani. But I knew they would remain quiet for my Father's sake. I'm sure they didn't want to spoil the moment. But I suspected Nani would have a few angry words for me later. She was angry–I could see it in her eyes. She might of even said something, but at that instant, Jumba spoke.

"So," He said, plopping his massive behind onto the sofa. "What will you be doing now that your are out of prison asteroid?"

"Well," I replied. "I would like to stay, if it's alright. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Ih," my Father answered without a second though. Nani seemed a little dejected but remained quiet. It wasn't like her. She was usually so outspoken. Something had changed. Nani seemed more preserved and a little more mature. I felt like I was forgetting something–which was rare because I usually remember everything. Still, there was something escaping my attention. What could it be?

"Where will you be staying?" I looked to my right. It was Lilo who had spoken. She stood, leaning against the sofa with her dark brown eyes boring into mine. "Are you going to stay in Aaron's room again?"

"I don't want to interrupt your lives" I told her reassuringly. "I'm sure Aaron wouldn't want to share a room with me. So, I think it would be best if I stayed in my laboratory from now on."

My Father made as if he was going to argue but I beat him to the punch. "No," I said. "It's for the best."

My Dad frowned, sagging his shoulders. "Okie takka," He mumbled, disappointed.

I spent the next hour sitting on the sofa, conversing and sharing my experiences in prison with my family; of course I kept some of the more disturbing elements to myself: such as the time I went insane and was nearly raped by my cell mate, things like that. I thought it would be best to spare them from some of the more horrifying moments. Besides, I don't think I would have been able to retell them anyway. I was still scarred from those experiences and preferred to keep them buried inside me. No one would have to know. Instead I chose to tell them of the endless hours I spent in my cell, pacing and missing home. I didn't tell them about Fletcher or the escape plan. Like I said, I was on parole. But of course my father noticed the numbers burned into my right arm. When he inquired about it, I lied and told him I was branded after coming to prison–which wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. My father looked horrified, as did the rest of the family but I wouldn't let it ruin our reunion. I quickly changed the subject and asked them what had happened in my absence. The news of Hamsterviel's attack–which Lilo retold with gusto and enthusiasm wasn't new to me, but I tried to look surprised.

"YA!" Lilo said loudly. "Hamsterviel came and tried to take an experiment but Stitch kicked his butt and saved us."

My Father smiled boastfully. "Piece of cake," He said.

"Ah, but 626 was not faring so well against strange man in black hood," Jumba added shrewdly.

Growling, my Dad clenched his fists. "Chubi chipa man in black hood!"Akie taba!"

"Man in black hood?" I asked.

"One of Hamsterviel's thugs," Lilo told me. "He was fast but Stitch got 'em . . . eventually."

This troubled me. I didn't like the idea of someone who was able to match my father in combat. He was designed to be unstoppable. Someone who was able to evade him long enough to lead an attack against Earth must have been very strong, or very fast. I've only met one other person who was able to outmatch my father, but I didn't like to think about it. I looked up and noticed everyone was staring at me. I was just about to comment when a loud wailing sounded from the hall. It was high and shrill like the squealing of a dying animal. It sounded sad. A moment later David walked into the living room looking exhausted and completely worn out.

"Nani," he whined "The baby is crying. Can I get some help?"

That's when it hit me. The Baby! That's what I was forgetting. Nani was pregnant when I left. She must have had it by now. In fact it would be a little over a year old. David and the child must have been here the whole time. I can't believe that I forgot something so important.

"The baby was born?" I asked Nani. Turning towards her, I waited anxiously for her response.

She smiled and nodded. "Yup, in April. His first birthday was five months ago."

"Can I see him?" Even before I asked I knew the answer. Why did I even bother?

Nani stopped halfway to the hall, looking distressed. "Uh . . .sorry no," She said. "He doesn't react well to strangers."

"That's alright," I said dropping my ears. "I understand."

At the sound of another ear piercing wail that reverberated through the house like a bellowing alarm, Nani bolted down the hall, running to her room to sooth her crying child. David quickly fallowed after.

It couldn't be more obvious that she didn't trust me around the baby. Then again, why would she? After what I did I wouldn't trust myself around my child either. But it still hurt.

"Don't feel bad," Lilo said. "Your not missing much. Why would you want to see that little snot monster anyway?"

I smiled. It looks like Lilo was starting to warm up to me. Did I sense a little jealously? I should have seen that coming. No doubt she would be resentful of the baby. After all, who likes being replaced?

"Not too fond of the kid?" I asked.

Lilo shook her head. "No," She said sharply. "All he does is eat, cry and poop."

"He and Elvis must have a lot to talk about," I said dryly.

Lilo grinned. "Ya, they have a lot in common." She smiled and hugged me herself. "It's good to have you back."

My father nodded in agreement and licked the side of my face, leaving a warm trail of saliva dripping from my fur.

"Ahem," Said Jumba, coughing loudly behind his fist. We all looked in his direction. "Are you not forgetting someone?" He asked.

"We already said our hellos," I told him.

"No, not me," He said, shacking his head. "Shouldn't younger experiments and bossy one-eyed noodle be present to see touching reunion?"

"Pleakleys still at bingo," Lilo said. "And–" She looked around the room to determine whether or not Aaron and Elvis were present. "And I don't know where the other two are."

My Father shrugged and hopped down from the couch, perking his ears as he moved towards the door.

"They're outside," he said, listening. "Running around in the forest." He reached up and pulled open the front door. A cool breeze wafted into the house and my father stepped outside and onto the porch. "AARON! ELVIS!" His loud high pitched voice rang over the surrounding area, causing a flock of birds in a nearby tree to scatter. "COME HOME!" No doubt wherever my bothers were, they would of certainly heard their father calling. Their ears were just as receptive as our Dad's. At that instant, Aaron came barreling through the door, with his chest heaving and sweat dripping down his face.

"What!? He yelled frightfully. "What is is? What's the proble–" he stopped in mid-sentence when he saw me sitting on the sofa. "S-Simon," He stammered.

I smiled and waved. "Hello, Aaron."

Aaron faltered for a moment;he seemed to have trouble piecing a sentence together. Like many things, Aaron had changed too. He still looked like our Father but his fur had taken on a slightly darker shade of blue. It actually made him look older.

Aaron gawked at our father who looked amused by his son's amazed expression. "When did he get here?" He asked.

_Same old Aaron,_ I thought. _Still asking stupid questions._

"I just arrived," I said casually. "I was let out of prison on parole and I've come back home to stay."

"Oh," Aaron exclaimed. "That's–" Unfortunately he was interrupted as 628 came charging through the door looking very angry and with glowing balls of bright blue fire floating above her hands.

"I heard a yell," She said looking around the living room. "Is everyone alright?"

"It's okay," Lilo quickly replied. "It was just Stitch."

628 immediately calmed down and the burning orbs of fire dispersed into the air.

"Oh, Sorry," she apologized. "You caught me by surprise."

"It's fine," Lilo said. "Oh by the way, this is Stitch's youngest son, Simon." Lilo smiled and pointed me out. "I chose the name," She added.

"We've met." I said flatly.

"Yes, I remember you . . . Simon." 628 rolled my name around in her mouth. "A word of Hebrew origin, meaning _to listen_ . . . are you a good listener?" .

"No," I replied with disdain.

She shrugged. "Oh well, bad call on the name then."

I couldn't help but notice that Lilo frowned at her comment. I grinned. I don't think she was to appreciative of 628's comment. Not only had 628 refused a name from Lilo, but she had just now insulted one already named. Naming experiments was something Lilo was a little sensitive about.

"Will you be staying with us her on Earth?" She asked crossing her arms.

I nodded.

"Hmm," she muttered. "Well aren't you the enthusiastic one. I hope some day I can be as happy as you."

I growled and was just about to reply with a side comment of my own before Lilo intervened.

"Anyway," Lilo continued. "Where's Elvis? You would think he'd want to be here."

"Elvis ran off somewhere," Aaron said, "I haven't seen him all day."

"He's at the lighthouse," 628 announced after closing her eyes.

Growling, I pushed past 628 and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Lilo called.

"I need to talk to Elvis," I said angrily.

My father was immediately in front of me, blocking my way.

"Naga," He said. "You just got here."

"626, is correct," Jumba agreed. "You should be staying here."

I tried to argue but he wouldn't budge and I was too weak to move him by force–not that I could even if I was in top form. But he was getting in my way. Escaping from prison and finally returning home would mean nothing if I didn't expose the truth of what really happened that day, but as bad as I wanted to do it; I didn't want to do it without Elvis present. I wanted him to be there to witness as he was revealed as the sociopathic son of a bitch he is. At the moment, Elvis wasn't here so I would have to wait. It wouldn't be long though. They would know the truth and nothing was going to stop me from being the one to tell them. For now I would have to hold my tongue. But the minute Elvis walks through the door I'll tell everyone the truth. He won't even have a chance to acknowledge what has happened until it's too late. Oh, I might let him say my name in surprise or maybe even bellow out a curse–but just once, Elvis, just once.

"So Simon," Aaron said after Dad pulled me back into the house and closed the door behind us. "How was prison? Did you run a cup along bars and play the harmonica all day?"

"No," I said frowning. "I had a number branded into my skin and nearly had my stomach ripped out. . .since you asked."

The smile vanished from Aaron's face and the playful and childish image he had of harmonicas and jail house rock disintegrated, leaving him troubled and deeply disturbed.

"Oh," He said uneasily. "S-sorry."

I turned away from Aaron, instead looking to my Father.

"If it's alright with you," I said to him. "I would like to go to my laboratory and get settled in."

He seemed reluctant at first but eventually agreed. I thanked him and was just about to walk out the door when I was stopped by Aaron.

"Can I talk with you in private?" Before I even had a chance to argue, Aaron grabbed me by the shoulders, forced me form the living room, down the hall and onto the platform. As the elevator began to ascend to his room; I wretched myself free from his grasp.

"What is the matter with you?!" I yelled.

"Shhhh," He whispered. "Keep your voice down."

The elevator came to a stop and Aaron pushed me into his room. His taste obviously hadn't changed in the years. His walls were still completely bare; the only furniture he possessed was his bed and a small television with a bent and twisted coat hanger for an antenna. At least his room was still accommodated with that massive window that provided a fantastic view of the outside. I could see the sky. The horizon was beginning to darken, painting the skyline an angry shade of orange that gradually died and became a deep violet. The first few stars were already beginning to emerge from the twilight. Time had really flown by.

"Why do you want to talk to Elvis?" Aaron demanded.

"That's none of your concern," I replied coldly. "He and I, have unfinished business."

"I know," Aaron blurted out.

Suspiciously I quirked an eyebrow. Could he possibly know? "Know what?" I asked.

"I know that Elvis was the one who attacked Lilo."

My eyes widened in surprise. How could he possibly now that? The only two people in all of existence who knew of what Elvis did were he and I. Or at least . . .I thought we were the only ones who knew. How could Aaron know? Maybe he wasn't so innocent after all.

"How do you know that?" My tone was sharp and loud. I growled, angrily clenching my fists.

Sighing, Aaron turned away and faced the window. He seemed too ashamed to look me in the eye.

"Because Elvis told me," He muttered sadly.

"What?"

"Yes," He continued. "The day before Lilo was attacked I . . .Well I–"

_1 year and ten months ago . . ._

_After you told Dad that we had been beating on you for practically your entire life, Elvis locked himself in his room and didn't come out for weeks. After you made that Experiment O thing, I was starting to get worried so I went up to see him. When I got there he punched me and threw me out. A few days later I went back and this time he started yelling and muttering something about getting back at you._

"_I'm gonna put that little bastard in his place," he said._

"_What are you going to do?" I asked him._

_He smiled and told me he came up with a plan to put everything back to the way it was. I thought he was crazy but I listened anyway. He told me he about his plan and that he needed my help to do it. Elvis explained how he would take Lilo for a walk in the woods and how I was supposed to use Morhpolomew to disguise myself as you._

"_Now when you see us coming," Elvis said. "Make sure you make it look good. Hurt both of us but _**especially**_ Lilo." _

_I said nothing. I just stared at him, not knowing what to say. I didn't think he meant it. I told him I wouldn't do it and he got angry._

"_IF YOU TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS!" He said. "I'LL KILL YOU." I don't know why, but I believed he would of killed me if I said anything to Dad. Still, I never thought he would actually go through with it. But that day when Elvis kicked down the door and dragged Lilo in, all bloodied and beaten up . . . I didn't know what to. I didn't know what to say . . ."_

"So you just stood there and let me take the blame!?" Snarling, I lunged forward and slashed Aaron across the chest, drawing thin lines of blood across his pectorals. "What about when he tried to kill me!?" I roared. "Did you know about that too!?"

"Y-yes,"Aaron admitted shamefully. "I knew . . ."

_After we took Lilo to the hospital, I knew I had to get back to the house. I knew you weren't responsible but I didn't say anything to Dad. I was afraid of what Elvis might do. I thought . . .I thought if I could just get back in time; I might be able to smooth things over, but . . .I was too late. By the time I got there, Elvis had already sneaked from his room by crawling down the tower. I listened and tracked him to the cliff you always hang around at–you know, the one with the bench. When I finally found the cliff, I saw that you and Elvis were already there, sitting on the edge; it looked like you were talking about something. I had no idea that Elvis was going to do what he did. I was going to say something . . .I'm so stupid. I was just about to walk from the bushes and say: "Hey guys, what are you doing?" In fact, I was in the middle of saying 'hey' when I saw Elvis push you off the cliff . . ._

I listened in rising anger as Aaron continued with his story. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I needed to hear more.

"Go on," I demanded,

He gulped at the anger in my voice but continued. . .

_Elvis had just yelled "Say hi to Mom and Presley for me!" When I jumped from the bushes and tackled him to the ground. I was vaguely aware of the sound of your body hitting the water as I had him pinned._

"_What the hell did you just do!" I yelled. I looked over the edge, hoping you might reappear, but I only heard the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. It was funny but at first I though it was the sound of you screaming._

_He growled and shoved me aside. "I gave that fucking fagot what he deserved," Elvis bellowed._

"_Are you nuts you crazy son of a bitch!? You just **killed** our brother . . .what is Dad going to say when he finds out about this Elvis!? What do you think he's going to do to you?!"_

"_Dad isn't going to find out," He said to me. "Simon killed himself. He jumped from the cliff because he was feeling guilty about almost killing Lilo and me."_

_I don't know what it was . . .but the way he said it . . .how cold and uncaring, I was afraid._

"_Your crazy!" I shouted. "He's going to find out because I'm going to tell him. I'm not going to be held responsible for another one of my brothers dying!"_

"_Oh ya!" Elvis growled and got right in my face. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. "Who's going to believe you?" He said. "Lilo said Simon was the one who attacked us. And as far as that little bitch is concerned, that's the truth. It would be your word against mine. Hey, just for fun. Maybe I saw **you** push Simon off the cliff."_

"_What!?"_

"_Ya," He said slyly. "Maybe after all this time, you were getting tired of playing the perfect big brother and finally cracked when that little pussy Simon came along and nearly killed two** more** members of your family. Maybe, after being crushed and hurt by so much grief . . .you decided it was time for the fagot to go. And isn't it a possibility that just as you pushed him over I came just in the nick of time, intending to save Simon, but arrived too late to stop you."_

"_Y-you can't do that." I said._

"_Can't I! You might think your innocent in all of this but when I was kicking the shit out of the fagot, you were always **right there **kicking him along with me." That's when he punched me. I fell . . .and I hurt. "What happened to you man?" Said Elvis, disgusted. "Ever since Presley died you've turned soft. You used to be cool. We used to have the best times hanging out. But now look at you . . .your just as bad as he was."_

"_YOU NEVER CARED ABOUT PRESLEY!" I snarled. Elvis jumped a little but didn't seem too afraid. "You never cared about anyone but yourself. Presley was my brother–and so was Simon. You know what? I had a better time hanging out with Simon than I ever did with you. He may have been nerdy but at least he wasn't an asshole! And . . .and if you never told us to go after Simon so we could hand him over to that snake guy . . . Presley never wouldn't have died!"_

"_Hey! It's not my fault you decided to get self righteous. Your the one who sent him in to fight that alien because you were too much of a bitch to do it yourself."_

"_No," I said. "Presley made me stay behind. I wanted to go . . . but he knocked me out cold. I didn't want him to go. I was the one who was feeling guilty, and you know what . . .so was Presley."_

_Elvis scoffed. "Because Simon saved your life?" _

"_Ya," I replied sadly. " . . .he saved me. Even after everything I did to him: I beat him up, I humiliated him; I did some of the worst things someone can do to another person." I paused, almost on the verge of tears. "And even after all that . . . when I fell off that surfboard. Simon was the one who pulled me back." Now I actually was crying. "I don't remember **you** jumping in after me."_

"_Ya well," Elvis said. "If you loved him so much then or all I care you can go in the water after him. You might want to bring some floaties. Remember, we can't swim."_

_He turned and was about to leave, but I couldn't let him get away with this._

"_I'm telling," I said. "I'm going to tell Dad everything."_

_He stopped and just stood there. I flexed my claws, preparing for an attack. But instead of attacking, Elvis did something completely unexpected. He turned around, grabbed my crotch, and squeezed it as hard as he could. Imagine that. Pressure of three-thousand times your own weight squeezing down on your gonads. It hurt like flaming pus spewing hell!_

_The next thing I know, I'm falling to the ground, screaming and holding my groin. It hurt so much I couldn't move. I could actually feel my genitals throbbing inside my body, sending a fresh wave of pain with each passing second. It was hell. And If it wasn't for that, I might have been able to act sooner. Before Elvis left he turned to me, growled and said: "If you tell anyone. I swear on our mother's grave; I'll rip yours Lilo's throat out with my bare claws." _

_Then he left. I was lying there for a long time before I got feeling back in my legs. The house was a long way but I could still hear the explosion, and see the black plume of smoke rising over the trees. Even before I got to the house and found it blown all to hell, I knew something was wrong. I was able to track Jumba down to your lab; the door was open, so I just walked right in. When I got inside I found the floor covered in blood and saw Jumba stitching up Elvis like a rag doll. It kind of reminded me of the time I saw Lilo sowing up her doll Scrump after Dad tore its head off. I didn't know what was happening. I still thought you were dead. After Jumba managed to save Elvis, he brought me to his ship and gave me a needle with that glowing purple stuff in it. When he told me that you were alive, I was relived at first. But then he let me know what had happened with something called Chemical 606, at the house and how you were on a rampage across the island. I didn't want to believe it, but Jumba gave me no time to argue. _

"_You must be finding Simon and be giving him this," Jumba said as he handed me the needle. "Simon's life and the lives of everyone on the island may be depending on it."_

_When I finally found you and Dad ducking it out in the middle of town square, the needle in my hand and the pain in my groin becoming a distant memory; I didn't know what to do, so I called out and ran towards you guys. When I got a good look at you I almost turned around and hightailed it out of there. The dead bodies were bad enough, but you looked like a monster. You eyes were green and their were veins throbbing all over your skin; they seemed to be leaking some kind of green blood. It was even coming out of your mouth! It was the scariest thing I've ever seen. Then you attacked me and well . . .you know the rest. _

_After you were taken away from prison, I had no idea what I should do. Lilo was healing and Elvis was recovering. The GF came in and rebuilt the town and wiped the survivor's memories. I even think they replaced some of the casualties with clones. They even rebuilt our house. Most of the stuff in the towers survived the explosion. It was the kitchen and the living room that had been destroyed; the rest just sort of . . .collapsed. After everything was back to normal, I was dead set on telling the truth, telling Dad what really happened; but he had already been through so much. He had already experienced so much pain in his life. After this, I didn't have the heart to tell him that Elvis was responsible. It would have broken his heart. Parents aren't supposed to chose favorites, but Dad always liked Elvis a lot. I think if I had told him the truth, it could have killed him. The subject was never brought up again. No one was ever allowed to talk about you and Elvis still threatened to kill me and Lilo if I said anything. So, things just sort of went on . . . almost as if you never existed at all._

Aaron sighed and dropped his head in defeat, finally relieved of the burden he had been forced to carry on his shoulders for so long. I sat next to him on his bed, in cold silence. I had listened intently to every word he spoke, and I didn't know what to say to him. How hard it must have been for him to carry around this secret; how hard it must have been to suffer in silence knowing that his brother was rotting prison. Still, no matter what Aaron had to endure, it still didn't hold a candle to what I've been through.

"I. . .I don't know what to say," I told him. Truth be told. I didn't know how to feel about this. It didn't really make any difference. At first I was angry but as his story went on; I found my initial rage quickly replaced with a sense of austere understanding.

"You can't tell him," said Aaron as thin tears streamed down his face. "I don't know what Elvis will do."

"I'm not afraid of him," I growled. "This doesn't change anything. I haven't traveled trillions of light years across the universe to let this stop me."

"Fine," Aaron said, jumping down form his bed. "If you have to tell Dad then at least wait. If not for me, then for our Father's sake. Dads so happy to see you now that your back. Don't ruin this day for him. He's been a wreck since you left and I don't think it would be the right time to tell him his other son is a murdering son of a bitch."

I sighed. Maybe Aaron was right. Maybe this wasn't the right time to reveal the truth. This is pretty big news, I wouldn't want to do anything that might cause my father harm. I would tell him eventually, but I would wait a couple of days to expose Elvis' crimes; sort of let myself settle in first. Not only that, but once Elvis learned of my return, I would have the pleasure of watching him sweat it out. I would have him a nervous wreck before the week is out.

"Alright," I said. "I'll wait . . . but just a few days."

Aaron let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks man, I know prison must have been rough. I appreciate the love."

"You have no idea what prison was like," I said leaning against his bed. "It was the most horrifying experience of my life. You can't even imagine the things I've been through." My eyes found the thin white lines that made out the numbers 10100101. They were burned into my skin. Never to be removed.

"Hey, I've had some hardships over here too," Aaron announced sadly.

I scoffed. "Like what?"

"Well," He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Keep this to yourself alright."

Alright," I nodded. "Whatever you say won't leave this room."

Aaron gulped. "Well," he muttered while nervously twiddling his fingers. "Ever since Elvis . . . you know." He looked down at his groin. "I haven't been able to . . . well _you know_."

"I nodded in understanding, I didn't like where this was going.

It happens every once in a while," He said, looking down at the floor. "But not as much as it used to."

"Ah, " I said uncomfortably. "I don't think we should continue this conversation."

"Ya your probably right," Aaron agreed. "But it kinda sucks, because now I don't have any chance of finding a mate." He sighed and dropped his ears.

"Well you have a better chance of finding a mate than I do," I told him. "I look like reheated death . . .so I've been told."

"Bah. Now way." Aaron waved my comment away. "You just need to put on some weight. You'll be fine. You actually weren't that bad looking. You take after Dad more than the rest of us. Except for your fur. I still don't know how you got stuck with black and grey fur."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Must have been in the genetics."

"You know," Aaron said. "I never blamed you for mom dying."

I shuddered uncomfortably. We touched on a subject I didn't want to talk about. I think Aaron understood this because he immediately let the topic drop. But at least I was making conversation. At least I was making an effort to blend in with the rest of the family. Talking with Aaron was easier than I thought. I don't know why, but I felt closer to my brother than I ever had before.

I smiled and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Thank you," I said. "That . . .that means a lot coming from family."

He laughed and threw his arm around my neck. "So are we going to be roomies again or what?"

"No," I replied. "I'm going to be staying in my laboratory."

Aaron cringed. "I hate that place," he said. "It's dark, gloomy and lonely . . . it's like an old folk's home."

"Your comparing my haven for scientific work, the place I do my most profound thinking to a small cramped place you stuff the elderly because you don't want to be the one stuck taking care of them?"

"Well ya I–"

"What the hell!" Came a loud call from the center of the room.

When I looked, I was astonished to see none other than Elvis standing on the platform, a soda can held in one hand and a plate of pizza in the other. When Elvis saw me, at first he seemed confused–almost like he didn't recognize me. But I recognized him. He was still the spitting image of our Father, only with slightly darker fur and a small tuft of spiked hair on the crown of his head. My eyes immediately found the large X shaped scar that crisscrossed across his chest–I remembered that incident well. Still, something seemed different. He seemed more muscular than I remembered. His pectorals were a little more prominent and his biceps seemed to bulge out more. His face was distorted and twisted in a look of rage. If I had been my old self I would have thrown myself onto the floor, begging for mercy. But I was a different person now. I was braver and not afraid of him.

"Y-You!" Elvis yelled, angrily crushing the soda can in his hands. He looked to Aaron who returned his enraged scowl. Things had soured between those two, like curdled milk. Now we were all here: three brothers, the remaining children of Experiment 626. We were one short, but no one had time to notice. We hadn't been alone like this for a long time.

"Hello Elvis," I growled.


	16. Settling in, Buried Emotions

Alius111: Well here is the next chapter. **It's weird when I was preparing for this story a couple months ago, I always pictured what would happen before and after Simon returned to earth. I never plotted out what would happen once he actually got there. Like I know what's going to happen after Simon moves into the house(You'll know what I'm talking about soon) But I never actually thought about how he would move in. So, in the real Canadian spirit I just pulled something out of thin air and plastered it on the screen. What the hell, go read the next chapter.**

* * *

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Settling In, Buried Emotions**

"What the fuck is he doing here!?" Elvis growled, seething in anger. The plate in his hand began to shack, causing his claws to make a loud clinking sound as they struck the glass.

Aaron immediately stepped up. "Simon is back from prison," he said. "Right man?" Aaron looked to me, eager for my support. He seemed to need my encouragement when standing up to Elvis.

I nodded. "Yes, I've been let out on parole."

At this Elvis yelled in rage and threw the plate of pizza against the wall, shattering it. The pizza slowly slid down from the wall like a slug crawling along a rock, leaving loose strings of cheese and pepperoni to dangle over the edge of Aaron's television.

I growled, baring my own fangs. If Elvis was going to try anything I would be there to rip his throat out.

Elvis growled, causing his upper lip to tremble with fury. He made a move towards me, his claws outstretched like knives, but Aaron intervened, quickly stepping between Elvis and I.

"Why do you always have to start shit!?" Aaron shouted.

Our older brother started daggers at Aaron, furious that he would come between him and me. "You want a piece of me Aaron!?" Elvis roared, extending his claws and flexing his powerful biceps.

Growling, Aaron stood up to his tallest height and leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. "I'll **drop you** like a bag of dirt," he threatened.

Elvis smirked and punched Aaron in the face, sending him flying into a wall. There was a loud banging as Aaron's back struck the side of the dome. I tried to go over to help him but Elvis reached out and grabbed me by the fur on my chest, lifting me off the floor. This brought back some sour memories. Elvis would often lift me up in this way. But I wasn't going to take it this time.

Snarling like a savage beast, I dug my razor-like claws into his forearm deep enough to draw blood. Elvis cringed in pain but still held me aloft, ignoring the thick trails of pink blood that began trickling down his arm.

"Next time I'll have to drop you off a higher cliff!" He spat.

Raising my hand, I flexed my claws, preparing to strike out at his face. "Come on and try," I said angrily. "I'll give you another scar to match the one on your chest."

Elvis' eyes widened in rage. One of his second arms extended from his side, awkwardly reaching up to touch the X shaped scar.

I frowned, watching as a spark of fear flared in his eyes. I think he remembered our time in my laboratory quite vividly. Did he have nightmares? Did he wake up screaming in the middle of the night after barely escaping from visions of a green-eyed monster? The thought of Elvis alone in his room, panting and terrified made a smile cross my face.

"I–" Elvis was interrupted as Aaron's fist came flying through the air, smashing him in the side of the mouth. Elvis roared in pain, dropping me as he was sent rolling onto the floor. Amazed, I looked up at Aaron who was busy nursing his bleeding knuckles.

"You okay?" He asked me.

I nodded and turned to Elvis who lay on his backside, whimpering as blood began pouring from between his lips. When he opened his mouth to speak his teeth were stained pink. "You bastard," He muttered, spitting blood onto the floor. "You chipped my tooth."

"Sorry it wasn't your head," Aaron growled, pulling me onto my feet. "I think you should go back downstairs," He said, gently leading me towards the elevator.

I looked back at Elvis who was steadily climbing back to his feet, looking accosted and bloodthirsty. "Yes, I think your right," I agreed. "I've had enough catching up for one night." I spared Elvis one more growl before walking onto the platform.

"Hey Simon," Aaron called.

"Yes," I said, turning around.

"It's good to have you back."

I smiled and thanked him. Suddenly the platform came to life, descending to the lowest floor. Up through the elevator's metal shaft I could hear the noisy racket of Aaron and Elvis arguing. A moment later I heard a scuffle break out.

Downstairs Lilo, Jumba, 628 and my Father were waiting for me in the living room. When I walked into the room, Lilo worriedly asked me what all the noise was. I shrugged and told her we just had a little disagreement. Everyone but 628 was troubled by this. My Dad stared nervously at Jumba out the corner of his eye. But 628 obviously wasn't aware of the tension between my brothers and I. It was just as well. I didn't want anyone else knowing.

"Well, it's been great seeing you all again but," I quickly moved towards the front door. "It's late and I would like to get settled in and get some rest." After what just happened up stairs, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Simon come back tomorrow for breakfast," My Dad said wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll be back first thing in the morning. But now I have to go."

"I might as well come with you," 628 said. "I was heading home anyway."

I frowned but nodded. "Fine, if you want to come then come. But I'm not in the mood to hear you talk."

"I'll meet you outside then." 628 blinked and the door opened. Smiling, she stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

"I don't like her," I exclaimed the moment she was outdoors and out of ear shot. "She seems very rude."

"Oh no," Jumba argued. "She is just putting up tough exterior. 628 is a very kind, gentle, and loving creature." Immediately Jumba's face fell and he began sobbing into his hands. "WHERE DID I GO WRONG!" He wailed.

I tried my best to console Jumba, but it's impossible when he gets like this. I thought it best to leave. Saying my goodbyes, I quickly fallowed 628 out the door. When I got outside I found her waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. She urged me to hurry up and I complied.

It was still light outside, the sun was just barley beginning to sink beneath the horizon. The warm Hawaiian air felt good heating my fur. I knew I would probably start shedding soon. I found myself feeling vivified at the thought of a new fur coat; it would only add to the sense of purification–almost like I was washing all of the negative energy from my life. When 628 and I began our journey towards the trail that traveled behind the house in absolute silence; I was surprised to see that she was heading in the same direction I was. 628 said she was going home. Could she possibly have a house somewhere near my laboratory? An experiment owning a house was unheard of. I wanted to ask her about it but I was enjoying the quiet.

An opening in the trees greeted us as we neared the woods, opening up like the gaping mouth of the forest. It had been well kept, Jumba had taken special care to make sure the trail to our laboratory was clear at all times. I sneaked a peek a 628's face as we began to walk down the trail. She was still fallowing me. Curios, I looked around for maybe an opening in the trees that might turn off into. But there was none. The pathway through the tropical forest was straight and direct. Did she intend to fallow me all the way into my laboratory?

"Where are you going?" I asked her.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me," was 628's answer. I grumbled in frustration. She was really starting to get on my nerves.

"Just tell me." I demanded.

"I'm going home," She told me dully.

"Where is your house?"

"Up this trail."

"I see."

Apart from the gentle whooshing of the wind blowing through the leaves and the occasional shrill squawking of birdsong; our voices were the only sounds that could be heard. Our conversation inexplicably died. I suddenly found myself very interested in the noise my feet made as they flexed against the earth.

"Why were you in prison?" She suddenly asked.

Her sudden question made me jump but I tried my best to conceal my surprise. "Why don't you just read my mind?" I said apathetically. "I'm sure an experiment with such **powerful** telepathic abilities, would have no problem reading **my** puny little head. I'm sure it would work."

"Ya, it could." She nodded in agreement. "Or it could kill you."

Curios, I quirked an eyebrow and perused the subject. "What do you mean?" I asked.

She sighed and explained. "If I tried too hard to get into your head I might accidentally **push** too hard. And right now you look like the slightest breeze could knock you over, so I wouldn't even want to try."

"Fascinating," I said rolling my eyes.

"So you think I'm rude,"628 said defensively after a few moments of silence.

I gulped, searching her face for any sign of anger, but she actually look amused. "You heard that?"

"Yes," She replied nodding her head. "I hear a lot of things around the island," reaching up, she pointed through the trees. "Right now there's a couple breaking up at a coffee house a few miles away. I can hear her crying . . . oh no, that's too bad."

"What is?"

"The girl is pregnant," she relayed with a hint of sarcasm. "But she doesn't know it yet . . .oh and it's not even his, go figure."

"Well," I said flatly, "that's just how humans are: dishonest and untrustworthy. "

"Well look at this," She joked cheerfully. "You said you weren't in the mood to talk but now we're having conversations. I think we might have opened a flood gate."

"Well, you bring a lot of questions to mind."

She smirked. "Like what?"

"Like how does an experiment come to own a house?"

"I built it myself," said 627 as she stared up the trail, her large black eyes scanned the trees, looking for the tiniest flicker of light.

"That must have been expensive," I said impressed.

628 shook her head. "No, not really. Jumba provided me with the finances. And since it was technically your money. I guess you could say: **you** paid for it." She grinned, looking up at her long black claws. "And I have very expensive taste."

"You used my money?" I asked sourly.

"Yes, I did," she nodded. "So don't be too surprised when you see the bill. But if you want to be precise, it wasn't even yours to begin with."

"Hey," I shot back. "I didn't steal my funds if that's what your implying. I own some very profitable stocks in the market."

"Oh really?" She blinked and looked into my eyes. I suddenly felt a strange probing sensation in my head, like a cold finger was pocking around my brain. I realized she was trying to read my mind. In an attempt to block her out, I looked away but not soon enough. The finger in my mind became a large, icy fist and it clamped down on something. I felt an icy coldness run down my spine. Whatever 628 was looking for, she found it.

Angrily I growled as she smiled in satisfaction.

"How convenient," she said slyly, "that Lucky happened to be there every time you picked out stocks."

"Don't ever do that again!" I snapped. "Stay out of my head."

"Fair enough," she said crossing her arms. "But like I said, you cheated the government."

"They aren't _our_ government," I replied defensively. "Besides, they cheat people all the time. They had it coming. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

628 frowned. "Alright, but we better quicken the pace. It's almost night."

"Where exactly to you live?" I asked, fallowing her in long strides.

"I already told you,"628 said a little annoyed. "Up this trail."

"Well then where is your–" I came to an abrupt halt as the canopy trees fell back, spanning out into a wide open clearing. I immediately knew where I was but didn't believe what I was seeing. Instead of a small, warehouse like building constructed entirely of steel and concrete; there was, in it's place, a house. The entire first floor of my laboratory had been torn down and was replaced by a house. It was modest looking building with white siding and a green shingled roof. The house's front reminded me of a leering face. It had two large windows that glowed like a pair of eyes in the dark, situated between windows was a door. It looked like something out of the suburbs. To the right of the house, jutting from its side, was another section that, by the what I could see through the window, was a bedroom. An open porch constructed of wood spanned the house's base adjacent to a gorgeous bed of flowers. It actually would have looked rather nice if I wasn't so angry and compelled to mutilate the female experiment standing next to me.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY LABORATORY!" I bellowed, shacking her roughly by the shoulders. An electric current suddenly surged through my hands, causing to me to yell and jump back.

"Calm down," 628 said, her fur glowing brightly with electricity. "You weren't living here anyway. I thought I would spruce up the place a bit. I mean come on, it looked dank and depressing. After spending three minutes in there I wanted to hang myself."

"Well that's how I liked it!" I yelled. "Dark, depressing, and an inspiration to suicidal thoughts."

"Hey, don't judge until you've seen the inside. Come on." She put her hand on my shoulder and began leading me towards the house. I grudgingly fallowed, muttering angrily the whole way.

My entrance into the building that had callously taken the place of my laboratory was arduous at best. I was determined to hate it no matter what it looked like. But even I had trouble hating it. Despite how determined I was to dislike the very foundation of this house: I had to admit that it actually was in fact, very nice. When she opened the front door, beckoning me through the threshold; I reluctantly entered.

"Welcome to my home," 628 declared happily. "Allow me to give you the grand tour." Smiling she looked around the room, spreading her arms as if to embrace the air. "**This** is the living room."

Silently I observed the room with an interested but skeptical eye. 628 had good taste. The living room was a large square shaped area with white walls and hardwood floors; the floors were so clean I could see my reflection frowning up at me. In general it was a very airy and open place. There were large windows that–during the day–would have let in great light. But now during the night they were like empty black squares, eerily refracting the artificial light that shone brightly from a large light fixture bolted to the ceiling. I looked with an interested eye to the assortment of potted plants that hung from the ceiling, matching the decorative vases containing lavish bouquets of lily's. A plushy leather couch was pushed up against the wall parallel to a glass coffee table. There was no television but there was a large bookshelf and an old piano. To my immediate left there was a doorway leading into a dinning room.

"What do you think?" Asked 628.

"Alright I admit it," I said unwillingly. "So far, it's not a bad place." Interested, I looked to the piano. It was an older model, not grand but still very antiquated. "You play?" I asked.

"No," 628 relied, running her hand along the ivory keys. "I just thought it looked decorative–now come on. I want to show you the rest of the house."

As she led me into the dinning room, it become more and more evident that she did in fact, have expensive taste. The dining room was roughly the size of the living room. 628 seemed to dislike carpets because it too had hardwood floors. In light of the wide glass window that would allow daylight to shine on the table, I determined she must love plants. It soon became apparent when I spotted the various potted plants hanging from the ceiling in finely knitted baskets of yarn. Situated in the center of the room was large wooden table possible of seating four full grown humans. To my right there was no wall. The dinning room seemed to be connected directly to the kitchen where the hardwood floor suddenly stopped and continued on as chequered tiles.

"See that cabinet," 628 said pointing to a large oak cabinet with glass doors, displaying rows of very fine china. "That's an antique. The china is worth over ten thousand dollars."

"Very nice," I complimented walking into the kitchen. If it was as nice as the rest of the house, it promised not to disappoint.

The kitchen would have been a culinary haven for any housewife. It was the largest room I had seen so far with the only the best appliances. In the center of the kitchen was a tall wooden island, sort of extra counter space. The counter tops were made out of green granite. Wide cupboards made of wood were fixed to the walls, lining the perimeter of the room–except for sections that were saved for the double-doored, stainless steel refrigerator, the oven and the dishwasher. Right beside the fridge, I was interested to see a sliding glass door that seemed to lead to an outside porch. To my right was an opening that led down a brightly lit hallway. So far I had determined that 628 was a neat freak, for I had seen nothing out of place.

Smiling 628 led me down the hallway with gusto and much excitement. On my right was a doorway that led back into the living room. On the left side of the hall two doors lined the wall. The first was a bathroom which was just a lavish and decorated as the rest of the house, and the second was an empty bedroom. 628 informed me that she still hadn't decided what to do with that room. But I wasn't interested in the spare bedroom; my attention was focused on the large metal circle built into the floor.

"What is that?" I asked pointing to the circle in question.

"Oh that's the elevator to Jumba's laboratory," 628 replied. "It's a shame I had to get rid of the stairs. They were the only exercise Jumba got. He's gotten a little fat since then, I tried to ween him over to low fat mayonnaise, but the fat ass wouldn't budge."

I laughed quietly to myself. We obviously shared the same opinion concerning Jumba's weight. I was about to comment when I noticed a room I hadn't seen yet.

"What room is that?" I asked pointing to the closed door at the end of the hall.

"That's my bedroom," 628 informed me.

"Ah," I mumbled to myself. "I see."

"So what do you think of the house?"

I looked up into her eyes. She seemed guarded but was eager for my approval. Truth be told I was still a little sore that she demolished a part of my lab, but I figured I might as well tell her the truth.

"Hmm," I thought it over for a moment, lightly tapping my chin. "Alright, it's a very nice house," I admitted. "Much better than the first level of my laboratory which you . . . ripped down."

Satisfied, 628 smiled, excepting my compliment with dignity. "Thanks, I like to think so."

"Well, I've taken up too much of your time," I said, backing away towards the platform. I'm going to get some rest." I thanked her for the tour and was just about to step onto the elevator when she called me back.

"Wait," She said. "Your going to sleep down there?"

Turning to her, I nodded. "Well ya," I mumbled sheepishly.

"Where?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably just set up a cot on the floor."

628 shook her head. "No," she said sternly. "You can't sleep down there. We'll find you dead within a week."

"Then what do you suggest I do? Sleep outside?"

"No, your not staying outside," She said rolling her eyes. "Just stay up here, I have plenty of room."

I narrowed my eyes, looking at the female suspiciously. She seemed sincere but the time I spent in prison made me paranoid to the point that I could barely recognize a kind gesture without rousing suspicion.

"Really?" I asked. "You would let me–an **ex-con**, stay in your house?"

628 thought it over before nodding. "Ya, you seem friendly enough. I'm usually a good judge of character. But if you ever **did** try anything: I'd lift you over my head and snap you in half like a toothpick."

I cringed, trying forced the unpleasant image of a fiery-eyed 628 breaking me in two from my mind.

"Well," I said reluctantly. "I suppose it would be better than sleeping in my laboratory . . .alright, I'll stay up here."

She smiled. "Great, I might as well show you the rest of the house then."

As 628 shepherded herded me down the hall, boring me with a long and tedious conversation; I wondered if I made the right decision. I just got back to Earth. Was it really wise to be staying with a strange female I didn't even know? Oh well, it was too late. If I changed my mind now I would only end up insulting her.

"This is my bedroom," 628 said opening the door.

Quietly I walked past her, stepping onto a white shag carpet. 628's room was a very spacious area. It had a warm homey feeling about it. When I spotted the two expansive windows that paralleled each other from opposite ends of the room; I realized this must be the extra section attached to the side of the house. Even in here 628's taste for the expensive was evident. Her bed–which was a large queen size with two soft pillows and a white duvet–was placed in the middle of the room with the headboard pushed up against the far wall. A small table was set on the left side of bed, located on the its polished surface was a small lamp with a rather thick book resting peacefully next to it.

"So, what do you think?" She asked. "Nice?"

"Ya," I said appreciatively. "So which side of the bed is mine?"

"Very funny," 628 said dryly. "**Your** sleeping on the couch."

XXXX

Silently I waited, patiently leaning up against the piano as 628 threw an extra pillow and a blanket onto the couch.

"Hmm," I don't know," She said after examining her makeshift bed. "Are you sure this will be comfortable enough?"

"Yes it will be fine," I reassured her for the thousandth time. "I've spent the last year sleeping on a rock hard prison bed. After that, a couch will be more than comfortable."

628 nodded, admiring her handiwork. "You'll probably want to get some sleep now," She blinked and the lights shut off, plunging the house into darkness. "I'm going to go out again, but you can just sleep I won't bother you." Gracefully she moved across the darkened living room, careful not to bump into the table. "If you get hungry there is food in the fridge–but," she added strictly, "make sure you clean up any mess you make. If I come back and find a bunch of crap spread over my counter I'll break your fingers."

An instant later I heard the door close. I sighed, slowly climbing underneath the blanket; it was soft and smelled flowery like fabric softener. When compared to my bed in prison, 628's couch was very comfortable. The cushions sank underneath my body but provided enough support to avoid cramps in the morning. The living room was quiet. It was strange being alone in someone else's house(despite the fact that I paid for it) Through the window I could see the dark outline of the trees. Insect and crickets chirped loudly in the outdoors. It was hard to fall asleep with all of this racket. Even though I was exhausted I couldn't find rest. Excluding the time I slept on various ships this was the first time I slept somewhere other than in my cell. I was actually starting to feel slightly agoraphobic. I almost missed the small confining spaces of the prison. It was so hard to believe that I was actually here. I almost expected to wake up any moment in my cell just to find out that it had all been a dream. But no, I was actually back home. I was never going back to prison. After realizing I was never going to get some rest, I soon found myself sitting in front of the piano. It had been years since I last played.

Lightly I struck on of the keys with my claw. The piano gave out a loud chime, it was a little out of tune but that could be fixed. Smiling, I played a few more keys. I didn't need sheet music. I could recall every note of every song I ever played. I learned to play the piano many years ago, along with the tenor saxophone, violin and guitar. I knew how to play many instruments; the piano had always been my favorite. Once I tried to teach Jumba, but his fingers were too fat, he would always end up hitting more than one key when attempting to play a single note. I chuckled at the pleasant image of Jumba angrily tearing up the sheet music.

"Lets see if I remember how to do this."

Slowly my fingers moved over the keyboard, breaking into Mozart's Piano Sonata No.11. It was just like riding a bike, I never missed a key. The longer I played the more I tried to outdo myself. With each passing minute the music I played became faster and more complicated, it was difficult but the music was beautiful. I don't know how long I sat there playing 628's piano. For hours I must have played, delighting in the chimes of the piano in accordance with the keys I hit. I forgot how soothing it can be to play an instrument. Closing my eyes, I continued to play.

Fifteen minutes later I found myself standing on the elevator to my laboratory. At first I tried to scratch my boredom by making myself a snack–making sure that every crumb was properly disposed of–but the food did little to satisfy my hunger. I knew what I really wanted: I wanted to see my lab. The hallway was strange and unfamiliar, but I knew what was down there. Down there was safe and familiar. Growing up I spent so much time in my lab, I was equivalent to those moles that never see daylight. How many days did I waste down there, feeling secluded from a family I thought didn't want me? My lab had always been a haven, my sanctuary; the one place I could go to get away and be safe from my brothers. Too many times I had to drag myself back to my lab, bloodied and broken after enduring another harsh beating. The last time I was down there I tried to kill my brother by drowning him in a giant water silo. Before that Elvis had completely destroyed my lab. No doubt Jumba would have repaired the damage done by now. I wonder how things had changed.

Firmly I stomped my foot down on the platform.

"Password, please," said a robotic voice.

_I hope Jumba kept my password in the mainframe._

"Evil Genius Simon, Access Code: 010203040506070809090807060504030201."

Much to my surprise, the elevator sprung to life, descending into darkness.


	17. Revenge Served Hot, Is Best Served Cold

**Alius111:** Alirght, here it is: the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait, I wanted to have this up after Christmas but you try writing with a hangover. What? It was the holidays, I was celebrating., after that I just never got around to it. Anyway, I would also like to bring to attntion an important footnote in this story. With the addition of this chapter, Simon's Experiments II is now longer than Simon's Experiment I, and only at 16 chapters. You know what? I think I might be getting better at this whole writing thing. This has been great practice. I know it's not perfect but writing these stories has really imporved my grammar and spelling(Especially when you cmopare it to some of my earlier work. I would to thank all who reviewed my story so far; you are an inspiration to me, without your reviews this would have gotten boring a long time ago. Anyway, without anymore distraction, I present the next chapter in Simon's Experiments 2. Enjoy . . .oh! And Please Review.

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**Simon's Experiment's II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Revenge Served Hot, Is Best Served Alone.**

When the platform came to a stop at the bottom of the elevator shaft, I couldn't help but wonder what would be different. God knows I had changed, but would everything else be the same? Would my lab be as it was, or like me, would it have undergone a drastic transformation that would leave me fighting for breath as I tried to comprehend the massive change? Maybe I'm being a little over dramatic. Still, I prepared myself for whatever I might see.

Walking into my laboratory was like coming home again. Never had I felt more in place. This was my home, this was my natural environment. When a caged animal is released back into the wild, he does not miss his cage. Instead he ganders in wonder at something he dreamed of everyday since being forced into captivity. But something was different, something was strange. It almost felt oppressive. The supercomputer's warm and translucent glow illuminated a small area of the floor, but seeing again wasn't comforting in the slightest. The solid steel walls held none of the peace or reassurance I thought they would. The bubbling liquids and glowing test tubes–which would be any mad scientist's wet dream–felt outputting and sadly anticlimactic. I thought I might find the smallest trace of inner-harmony if I could only sample the familiar. But I didn't. Even my chair, which had been replaced to seat someone of Jumba's generous girth, was strange and unfamiliar. When I took into account the design of the laboratory, everything was exactly as I had left it before Elvis' atrocities. Jumba had repaired and removed all damage and destruction done onto our lab. The large underground construct was just as large as ever. The massive computer screen was positioned on the wall like some sort of technological monument. Hundreds of stations dedicated to thousands of different experiments were set in consecutive rows. Machines, my particle accelerator, the door to the vault, the stairwell to the third level, the fusion chamber; it was all here. But it felt different. My charm and personal touch had been completely eliminated. The whole place stank of Jumba's dull and lackluster taste. Or had the lab always looked like this? Maybe after experiencing all that I had, and seeing everything that I did, this stale and trite place failed to inspire the same excitement in me. When compared to the constructs of the Galactic Federation, the laboratory's futuristic and ultramodern visage seemed tedious and overused. Oh well, I guess when your from a small forgotten planet like Earth, anything new could excite you. But over time. . .the necessities grow tragically bleak.

"_This is very big hole Simon."_

"_Yes, I know. Can't you already picture our laboratory? I think the supercomputer should go here . . .Hmm, on second though, perhaps that would be too close to the power cells."_

"_How are we going to fit it all in here?"_

"_Relax Jumba, we'll just construct a third level."_

I began typing. My fingers moved tentatively over the keys, pounding in commands for the computer. It only took me a moment to boot up the system. It came as no surprise when I was acknowledged by a dreary and uninteresting voice that lacked all traces of a personality.

"Hello," Said the computer in a dull monotone voice. "I am the P.H.I.L. Please enter your user name and password."

"Phil?" I said, scrunching my face in distaste. "What the hell happened to Debra?"

"User name: Phil, what the hell happened to Debra, is not recognized." As the supercomputer spoke, the overhead light fixture opened up into a plasma cannon and aimed at my head. "Please enter valid user name and password."

Frustrated, I sighed and type in my access code. The gun immediately closed and folded back into the roof and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thankfully Jumba kept me in the mainframe; if he hadn't then there would be nothing left of me but a smoking pile of fur.

"Welcome Simon," Phil said.

"_Imagine it Jumba. A self maintaining computer system to monitor our laboratory and organize our experiments. . .what should we call it?"_

"_Hmm, I am thinking . . .the D.E.B.R.A."_

"_Debra? What does that stand for?"_

"_Is none of your business."_

I nodded. "Thank you Phil." It was a little strange talking to a computer. No matter how many times I do it, I'll never get used to it. "Phil, are my files still intact?" I asked.

The computer took a moment to scan its system before answering. "Yes." Phil replied.

"Good." I looked up at the screen and found a little file labeled "Simon's Documents" and opened it with a short click of the enter key. The supercomputer immediately dissected my file, displaying all of its contents on the monitor. It was strange seeing all of my work again. But even stranger when I spotted a small digitized folder at the end of the list. It was labeled "Chemical 606" in small letters made up of tiny black pixels. Frowning, I stared up at the file, giving it a hateful and resentful glare as a wave of memories washed over me.

"_Jumba, I tell you it is going to work . . . no I'm not going to tell you what it does. . .because I don't want to. . . .No, there's nothing wrong with my formula._

"Two years," I said bitterly. I wasted two years of my life perfecting that wretched formula, and for what? Everything. . .all of this, is because of that damn chemical.

My eyes dropped down to the delete button. I found my finger already poised over the key. The tip of mt claw trembled, just aching to press down on that tiny button. But at the last moment, I hesitated. Rather than deleting the document, I hit the escape key and closed my file. Later I might come to regret my decision, but for now all I could do was drop my head in defeat. The simple fact was: I couldn't do it. Just as I couldn't hand over Experiment O to the Grand Councilwomen no matter what she offered me; I couldn't destroy my creation . . . no matter how much pain it had caused me. The truth was, I still felt a strong connection to Chemical 606. Even though I hated that damn concoction with every fiber of my being, I couldn't forget the hours I spent trying to make it. Besides, given the opportunity, I would like to find out what went wrong. Shortly after taking 606 my body began to break down and degenerate, every cell in my body began to dissolve, and if it wasn't for Jumba's antidote my physical structure would have collapsed and I would have died. . . but why? Was there a problem with the formula? Had I made a mistake? Perhaps I miscalculated. Whatever the reason, I couldn't fix it. Nor did I want to. I might not be able to destroy it, but I could let it rot and collect dust for the rest of time.

Dropping my head, I sighed. "What a mess," I muttered, a sad frown coming over my face.

"What are you doing down here all by yourself?"

I turned around and furrowed my brow when I saw 628 approaching from the staircase.

"What do you want?" I asked callously. Honestly, I really didn't care. I should have been the one asking what _she_ was doing in my laboratory. But at the risk of an argument, I decided to let it slide.

628 frowned but not in a sad way, her expression almost looked a little hurt. Her large black eyes had the look of girl who had suffered a great disappointment, and the light radiating from the supercomputer only added to their luster.

"Sorry," She said. "I'm not bothering you am I?" I looked at her strangely and tried to trace any sarcasm in her voice, but she sounded sincere. "I know you probably don't like me coming down here," 628 continued, "but I got a little worried when I got home and you weren't on the couch."

I raised my eyebrows and stared in disbelief at the female experiment. "Worried?" I asked. "About me?"

" Well, ya." 628 nodded. "I guess it's a female thing," Slowly she came towards the supercomputer. "I always worry about everyone." She smirked and stifled a laugh. "It's almost funny now. . .I thought you might of run off."

"_Well,_ you weren't so fortunate–" I stopped and looked 628 up and down. Something was different about her. In the darkness of the lab it was almost impossible to make out. "You changed your fur," I said as I took in her change of appearance. Her body was no longer dominated by white fur. Now her fur was a light beige, and instead of Grey 628 had white hair running up her abdomen and breasts, and had bright white patches around her eyes. She had retracted her tentacles which made it easier to see her face. In my opinion, it looked much better

628 smiled and looked down at her stomach. "Ya," She said sheepishly. "I didn't like the white and Grey so I went back to my old look."

I grunted and looked away from the female experiment, turning to look at the computer screen. I could feel her staring at me; her eyes were boring into the back of my head. I sighed in annoyance and began typing.

"I want to apologize," She suddenly blurted out.

Surprised, I looked away from the supercomputer and back at 628. "You want to apologize?" I said skeptically. "For what?"

"I was a little rude," she answered. "Earlier today . . . when we first met. I wanted to say I was sorry for the way I acted. I'm usually not so . . ."

"Ignorant?" I suggested. "Shrewd, condescending, discourteous, rude, self centered, a _bitch_. . .as they say in layman's terms." I turned away from her and began angrily pounding on the keyboard. I didn't need her pity. A long drawn out silence stretched on between us. It was one of those awkward moments that begged for words to be exchanged, but I was hardly in the mood to talk . . .especially to her. In a way she reminded me of Elvis. I don't know why but when I looked at her . . . I saw him. That dictated an instant disliking on my part. I didn't want to speak to her; fortunately I wouldn't have to. It was 628 who suddenly broke the silence. Even during our period of prolonged silence, she was still compelled to stay.

"I don't like it down here," She said looking around the darkened chamber. Shivering, 628 rubbed her arms together. "It's a little depressing."

I grunted but said nothing.

"Anyway," 628 continued uneasily, struggling to form a sentence. She was beginning to trip over herself. It was almost funny. Listening to 628 mumble and try hard to save face was probably the highlight of my night. "What is that back there?" She asked, finally managing to form words in her mouth.

I raised my head and looked to where she was pointing. She was indicating the large steel door located at the end of the laboratory. For some reason I hadn't found my way there yet, but it was a room I desperately wanted to see.

"That's the vault," I told her flatly. "That is where Jumba and I keep our most dangerous experiments. . .And it's not to be played in," I added when I saw the mischievous look she was giving the large steel door. I didn't like that twinkle of curiosity in her eye.

"Alright,alright," 628 said defensively. "It's just that Jumba never let me back there . . . I was just curios."

I frowned and stared at her sternly. "You'll keep your nose out of my business if you know what's good for you."

628 raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you threatening me?" She asked. When I said nothing 628 grew cross. When she spoke her torn was far more harsher than it had been a moment ago. "Who do you think you are? I've never met such a–"

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear," I cut across as I stood my ground. "I don't like you," I said flatly. "As much as I appreciate your hospitality, I would sooner sleep outside than stay in that tacky, overcrowded, plant infested _hut_ you call a house."

628 looked taken aback but she was quick enough to retaliate. "OH! I can't believe I came down here to apologize to you!" She yelled. "I must have been out of my mind. Here I was thinking, HEY, he just got back from prison, he's had it rough–maybe I should be a little nicer. But you know what? You can blow it out your ass!"

Rolling my eyes, I turned away and listened in anger as I heard 628 storm out of the laboratory. Only when I heard the elevator moving up to the first floor did I move away from the supercomputer and moved towards the vault.

_It's about time she left, _I thought.

All in all I was relived to finally be rid of 628. Personally I didn't care for her much. There was just something about her I didn't like. The angrier side of me said good riddance, but the more passive and kinder part of my psyche couldn't help but feel a little guilty. After all, this female let me into her house and gave me a temporary place to stay. And _she did_ come down here to apologize . . . maybe I was a little too harsh. Was I just venting my frustrations on her? Who was I really angry at? The answer eluded me for a moment but I soon found enlightenment. Elvis of course. The simplest answer can sometimes be the right one. I was angry at Elvis, and with good reason. But I had more pressing matters to attend to. I could decide what I was going to do with my brother later. Right now, I had something that needed my full attention.

"Evil Genius Simon," I said, placing my hand on the scanner. "Access Code:010203040506070809090807060504030201."

The vault's massive door swung open with the acceptance of my entry code and I stepped through. Inside the vault was just as I remembered. It was a large rectangle shaped room, big enough to be a building all on its own. Hundreds of metal shelves that spanned the length of the floor were set in rows running up and down the room. On these shelves were the countless experiments that were either failures, works in progress, or objects simply too dangerous to be left lying around the laboratory. It was technological but had a cold sterile feel in its pristine tidiness. At the end of the vault, on the right side; there was a large work station were Jumba and I could work in privacy. It was that very station which I worked tirelessly on Chemical 606 all those years ago . . . at least, it felt like years.

On the left side of the vault is were Jumba and I keep some of the larger machinery, including a few of my doomsday devices. But machines and weapons of mass destruction aren't the only perversions of nature you would find over there in the prestigious left side of the vault. Over there–even though they can be repulsive to look at–are two large tanks filled with a colorless liquid. And floating in this viscous concoction are the naked and hairless bodies of Jumba and myself. Years ago we thought it would be appropriate to generate a clone for ourselves in case we ever needed some spare organs. In fact it was one of my clones that saved me from living my life as a scarred and deformed invalid. Many years ago, before Chemical 606; there was fire. No one knows what started it, but the blaze destroyed the house and nearly killed everyone in it. My family got out alright, but I was left behind. My father eventually realized I was still in the house and he tried to rescue me, but by the time he got me out I had already been horribly burned and blinded in one eye. My skin suffered fourth degree burns and my lungs were damaged beyond repair. Fortunately, beside being a scientist, Jumba happens to be a brilliant surgeon. He was able to save me using parts from my second clone. Most of my skin and some of my muscle tissue had to be replaced. Both lungs and my left eye were taken from Simon-2(That's what I called my clone) There was extensive nerve damage, but using the amazing technology Jumba had access to–which is thousands of years ahead of Earth–all the damage was repaired and I eventually came out better than ever. Needless to say the ordeal almost killed me, and it is the reason behind my crippling fear of large flames. But I learned something: It's always good to have a clone or two lying around. I think it's a lesson we all need to learn.

In the back of the vault, located behind a secret passageway, is the entrance to the Strongroom. The Strongroom is a small chamber located one hundred feet below the Earth's surface. The titanium walls are coated with eighteen feet of concrete and ten feet of my own special metal alloy which I call: Simonanium. It's a very durable but malleable compound of my own invention. In fact it's nearly indestructible. My entire laboratory is lined with a thin layer of this alloy for both support and security. Every door in my lab is made of pure Simonanium, making them impossible to break through unless you know the code to open the doors. This(Along with the security system) makes the Strongroom the most secure place on Earth. There's only one way in and out. And unless Jumba and I are both there, a burglar or one of Hamsterviel's thugs could never find their way in. Inside the Strongroom, Jumba and I keep our most dangerous and invaluable experiments, including the pods for Experiment 627 and Experiment O. I hardly ever go down there. The last time I was in the Strongroom I was laying my creation to rest in a small tiny pod after just creating him and giving him life. It was a depressing time and something I wished I hadn't done. . .among other things.

Walking down the many aisles of the vault, I felt very much like a rat walking through a maze; a very well trained rat who knew exactly where he was going. On my way to the work station I had to stop to look at four solitary glass cylinders perched on one of the higher shelves. The lifeless faces of my failed experiments stared back at me, perfectly preserved in the formaldehyde. These were my first attempts at creating a living experiment. It happened so many years ago, but I remember the crushing failure like it was yesterday. I had failed them. They were created alive but they never reached consciousness; they had little to no brain activity when I made them; they were as good as dead. I had to make the choice of keeping the alive on life support–even though they would never truly be alive–or killing them . . . I chose the latter. Shortly after their creation, I had no choice but to poison them; one by one as each of them failed.

"_I am sorry Simon."_

"_I just don't understand. . .what went wrong?"_

"_I don't know, something wrong with fusion chamber perhaps."_

"_No, don't blame the equipment. It's me, I must of miscalculated."_

Quickening my pace with each stride, I looked away from my experiment's dead faces and continued down the aisle; I was almost at the work station but before I could clear the shelves something caught my eye and I stopped.

"What?" I said.

There, nestled carefully between a dismantled plasma cannon and a small metallic orb, was a large beaker with a black lid. Inside the beaker was a dull green liquid that gave off a faint, pulsating glow. Even through a year's worth of dust I could still make out the words printed across the label; they read "CHEMICAL 606" In big black letters. Before I could stop myself, my hand reached out and my fingers wrapped around the beaker. The next thing I knew, I was staring vacantly down at the large glass container held firmly in my hand.

"I can't believe he kept it," I said in wonder.

Over the many months that had passed, Chemical 606 had lost some of its luster and energy. The once vibrant neon liquid that held so much power had dulled, becoming a sickly green color with a pitiful glow that pulsated like a flickering candle. Unless its particles are kept energized, Chemical 606 will become stale and flaccid. Jumba had cared enough to keep it, but not enough to keep it fresh. I didn't really give a shit. He could of poured it down the sink for all I care. . .but he didn't. Jumba had kept Chemical 606 and safely tucked it away. Why? Was it meant to be some sort of memorabilia. Did Jumba use it to remind him of me? Late at night as Jumba sat at his work station did he look back to the shelves and stare at Chemical 606, tired and exhausted, wondering what I might be doing at that same moment?

As I continued to stare down at the beaker, I began to growl. My grip tightened around the glass until a thin crack appeared across its surface. Even as I squeezed the container I could faintly feel a trace of the power I once felt when I held Chemical 606 in my hand. But now it was weak, it had gone sour; like a carton of milk that was left out of the fridge too long.

Finally, just before the beaker was about to shatter, a loud, beastly yell escaped my throat and I flung the beaker across the vault where it shattered against the wall, spraying it's surface with the dull green liquid. But I didn't stop there. Eyes mad, I lunged forward and grabbed the first thing my hand came in contact with, throwing it across the room as well; the object knocked into another shelf, sending its burdens falling to the floor with a loud resounding clang. I yelled and swiped my arm through the air, throwing random objects and breaking test tubes. I could feel the rage pounding underneath my skin; my blood was red hot, if I didn't let it out I was going to explode!

Growling, I snatched a plasma cannon off the floor which had fallen from its place and blew out the legs from under a shelf. With a heavy shove, I sent it toppling over. The rest fell like dominoes.

By the time I was done the vault was a mess of broken glass and spilled chemical. I stood in the center of it all, panting and seething. I looked down to the floor and saw one of my failed experiments lying limp on the floor. When I knocked over the shelf it had fallen with it. But I didn't care. I just didn't care anymore!

I yelled up at the ceiling in a rage and dropped to my knees. A small shard of glass nicked my leg but I ignored the bloodshed. My hands flew up and I dug my claws into the side of my head. The pain was cathartic. I could feel it all just trickling away in the thin trails of blood that ran down my face. My anger had grown for far too long. Too long I sat in prison, consumed by hatred. Too long I let Elvis live his life without consequence. At that moment, I made a decision. I would of offered my soul to Satan himself just to have it done . . .but no. I wanted to do it myself. Elvis has darkened my life for too long. He sent me to prison, and I would have my revenge. No longer was it enough to merely expose Elvis' crimes–NO! He was going to pay for them as well. Just as I was sent to prison, he too would get exactly what he deserved. What did they think? I was going to come back all smiles and sunshine? No, I haven't forgotten. I could never forget. Elvis made me weak, and then he hurt me. Prison had changed me. I wasn't old passive Simon anymore, now I was someone else. I could never forgive Elvis for what he did. Nor would I let him get away with it. I was gong to kill him. I was going to kill my own brother. I wouldn't even hesitate. It was decided. By the time this is all over, Elvis was going to die.

XXXX

Upstairs I found 628 sitting timidly on the couch. She had a book in her hand and seemed completely unaware when I entered the living room. I'll admit I felt a little bad about what I said, but I wasn't going to apologize. I wasn't a prideful person, but I couldn't admit I was sorry to her. I don't know why, but it would seem like groveling. . .then again, if we were going to be staying in the same house. I guess one of us would have to take the first step.

Without saying anything, I climbed onto the opposite end of the couch and leaned against the plushy back rest. The pillow and blanket 628 used to make my bed had been thrown onto the floor. When I looked over at her I could tell she was making an effort not to look at me. She looked mad. I could tell by the way she sighed and how she kept racking her claws against the armrest.

"What are you reading?" I asked casually.

628 spied at me over the end of her book and sighed. "Hamlet," She responded coldly.

"Hamlet? I was surprised. She didn't seem like the kind to like Shakespeare. "How is it? I asked.

628 sighed again but said nothing. She was either completely absorbed in the play or was completely ignoring me. When she didn't respond an idea came to me. Smirking, I cleared my throat.

"I will tell you why," I began. "So shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors." I stopped and watched 628 for a reaction. I saw a faint smile appear on her face and I knew it had worked.

"**What a piece of work is a man!"** She said loudly. "How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so." When 628 finished she laughed and set down her book. "I can't believe you remembered that whole thing," She said snickering.

I simply shrugged and began flipping thought the book's pages. "When I was younger I used to read Shakespeare. Jumba never really had a taste for it."

628 chuckled and nodded her head in agreement. "I know what you mean. He's not much for all of this poetry and fancy shmancy. Which was why I was surprised when Jumba bought all of this stuff." She inclined her head and pointed out the furniture. "Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit."

Curios, I leaned forward and placed the book on the coffee table. "This is all Jumba's stuff?" I asked.

628 looked at me strangely then nodded her head. "Ya. After you left Jumba wanted to build a house here so he could get away from Pleakley. But rather than hire a building crew I offered to build it for him. He gave me money for supplies and I assembled it. The Jumba went out and bought all of this stuff–I hate those damn china plates by the way. I think they're hideous. Anyway, he decided he couldn't leave the family so he chose to stay in the house. He asked me if I wanted to move in and I said _sure. _I wasn't going to let all that hard work go to waste. Basically, everything but the plants belongs to Jumba."

"Oh. . ." I said trailing off.

_I think I owe her an apology, _I thought.

"Yes, that would be nice," 628 said obviously having just read my mind.

I grumbled in annoyance, but knew it couldn't be avoided. Moaning I rubbed my right temple and looked away from 628. "I'm sorry," I mumbled quietly.

"Apology accepted. . .now toss me my book. I'm almost finished reading the last act."

Leaning forward, I grabbed 628's copy of Hamlet and handed it to her which she accepted with a slight nod of her head. But it wasn't long before we were talking again. Actually it was she who was first to initiate conversation.

"I heard you playing earlier," 628 said, placing her book back on the table.

"What?" I hadn't heard what she said, I was too distracted by this odd looking vase perched on top the bookshelf. It was the strangest thing I've ever seen.

"The piano," she said, jerking her thumb towards the instrument in question. "I heard you from the house. Your very good." 628 repositioned herself on the couch so she was sitting closer to me and asked, "Who taught you?"

"I taught myself," I replied calmly. "It was years ago. I had some. . . _a lot_ of free time on my hands, so I decided to take up a hobby. The year before it was molecular physics."

"Uh uh," She said uncomfortably. "So what's the deal with you and Elvis?"

Frowning, I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

628's mouth dropped and she actually hit my shoulder. "Come on," She said vibrantly. "You don't have to be a telepath to feel the tension between you two. It's like you hate each other."

I smiled and shook my head. "Your full of questions aren't you?"

"Oh, nice save. You changed _that_ subject quick enough." Looking amused, 628 plopped herself again the backrest. "Alright if you don't want to talk about it you don't have to."

I stared at 628 curiously and my expression became suspicious. "I don't get you. Why are doing this?"

"What do you mean?" She asked innocently.

"You've let a complete stranger into your house and now your having a conversation with him." I gaped at her and felt like smacking 628 across her head for her stupidity. "I'm an ex-convict. I could be dangerous. Aren't you the least bit worried?"

It took a moment for it to register but when it finally did, 628 cracked up and laughed. "Worried? Worried about what?"

"I'm a male and I haven't seen a female in almost two years. Aren't you worried that I might sodomize you. . .or what if I sneak into your room in the middle of the night and slit your throat?"

Again 628 laughed. "Okay, first of all, Sodomize? What the hell does that mean? And secondly, there's not a knife on this planet that could cut through my skin, and thirdly," 628 smirked and looked me up and down. "Look at you. Your like one of those starving African children I see in those depressing charity commercials. A lame kitten could overpower you."

"Well as long as you feel secure," I said.

628 sighed. "You want to know why I'm really doing this?' She asked.

I nodded instantly. "Yes, of course I do."

She paused and was silent for a moment. When she spoke her voice was quiet and drawn out, like she was bored just saying the sentence. "It's because your a new face on the island–no matter how sunken in or depressing it might look–I'm sure you know how _boring _it is here," when she said the word "boring" it was spoken with disdain and she had a look on her face like she was tasting something disgusting. "I mean sometimes I feel like I'm about to go out of my mind. But then you come along and your all lonely and dark. I knew right from the moment I met you, you would be interesting because the lonely ones always have the best stories. And besides, Jumba talks so much about you, I was a little anxious to finally put a face and a personality behind the description he gave me."

When I was certain she was done. I began to speak. "Let me get this straight, " I said. "You invited a ex-convict into your home for the thrill?"

628 smiled and affirmed it. "Ya, wondering if you were a homicidal maniac was half the fun."

_Is she crazy_? I thought quietly to myself. _I'm not dangerous but she didn't know that. Is she suicidal? No of course not. Still, this is getting weird. And what is the deal with that vase? It's the most atrocious thing I've ever seen._ I stopped dead and looked at 628 who had suddenly become very cross._ Shit, I better not think anything. She could be reading my thoughts._

"Don't worry," 628 told me assuredly. "I hate that damn vase too. I usually throw a towel over that thing when Jumba isn't here."

"I can see your point. It's almost looks like a—Ouch!" I recoiled in pain and clutched my right arm with my other hand. I had pointed out to the vase and was interrupted by a sharp pain running up and down my arm. It was my damn arthritis again."

"What's wrong?" Asked 628, her face full of concern.

"Oh it's nothing," I said through clenched teeth. "My arm was broken in prison and it didn't heal right."

628's face fell. She looked absolutely heart wrenched. "Oh you poor thing," she muttered sadly. "Here, let me see your arm."

When she reached out for my arm I jumped back, pulling away from her outstretched hand. "What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Just trust me," she said gently.

Hesitantly, I let 628 rest her hands on my forearm. I was whimpered from the pain, it was becoming unbearable. I could drop of cool clammy sweat running through my fur.

628 closed her eyes and sighed. Instantly I felt a warmth spread through my skin and the pain began to ebb away. Slowly she moved her claws along my arm, back and forth and back and forth. Soon the warmth began to cool and when she pulled away and opened her eyes, the pain was gone. I stared amazed at my arm and gave it a quick flex. Nothing. Not even a tingle.

"What did you do?" I asked in astonishment.

628 smiled and let out a quiet rush of air. "I used my telekinesis to manipulate the nerves in your arm. You won't feel the pain anymore." She smiled and looked to the wall. According to a nearby clock it was past midnight. 628 moved to get off the couch but she stopped when she spotted the other side of my arm. In a flash she had my arm and was staring astonished at the thin scars that made out the numbers '10100101.'

"What happened to your arm?"

I looked down at the scar and frowned sadly. " I was branded a few months ago," I cringing at the memory. "They were torturing me for information."

628 gasped, gently running her claw along the scars. "They did that to you _in prison_?"

Miserably, I nodded and pulled my arm away. "Yes," I said. "I. . .I don't suppose you could heal this?"

628 frowned and shook her head. "No I'm sorry. I can't. I've never tried anything like that. I'm too afraid that something will go wrong."

"Alright I understand." I gazed up at 628 and noticed how sad she looked. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent. For a moment the house was silence. That long uncomfortable silence was back again, and now it almost seemed too thick to break. But as always, 628 was the first to speak.

"It's getting late," she said staring vacantly at the clock. "I'm going to head off to bed." Quickly she jumped down from the couch and headed into the hallway. Before disappearing behind the bend, she looked back and waved. "Good night Simon."

I nodded and thanked her for healing my arm. "Good night." I replied.

When 628 was gone. I dropped down to the floor and retrieved the discarded pillow and blanket. After I reconstructed my makeshift bed I suddenly found it much easier to fall asleep. I don't know why, but right before I dozed off; I found myself thinking of 628 and our conversation. I never met a female who was so easy to talk to; it was strange. Before when I approached a female I was usually greeted with a look of disgust, and that's when I was at least decent looking. But 628 was able to look at me without even cringing. I still found her rude and off putting but it just might be possible to find a friend in her. I could us another friend, it looked like I didn't have a choice. 628 was lending me room and board. I expected we would be spending a lot of time together. While I wasn't looking forward to her sarcasm. I was sure we would have a lot to talk about.

* * *

**Alius111: **Thanks for reading. In the next chpater Simon will be attempting to lead a normal life, but will have obviouse troubles. See ya next week.


	18. In The Morning

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**In The Morning**

The next morning I was jarred awake by the foul smell of burning toast and putrid smoke. Scrunching my nose, I turned over and looked up at the ceiling and jumped upright. A thick cloud of black smoke was pouring in from the dining room and hallway. Quickly, I untangled myself from the blankets and jumped off the couch. Running into the hallway, I could hear 628 shouting and the sound of loud metallic clangs, like something was being thrown into a metal pail. When I entered the kitchen the blanket of smoke hit me like a punch in the face. Immediately my eyes began to water. I looked around to see the stove was the source of the smoke. I was able to locate 628 who was standing on top of the oven, coughing and hacking, she was barley visible behind the dense shroud of smog.

"What the hell is going on!?" I yelled while shielding my nose behind my arm.

628 coughed, wildly waving her hands through the air, trying to push the smoke away. "Nothing," she wheezed loudly. "Everything is fine!"

Wide-eyed, I looked to the sink to see a steaming frying pan lay smoldering in the square basin; stuck to its blackened surface was what appeared to be strips of charred bacon. The loud clang I had heard before was the sound of 628 throwing the frying pan into the sink. Moving across the kitchen, I quickly climbed onto a stool pushed up against the stove and pulled myself onto the counter.

"Get away from the damn stove before you burn us all alive," I said pushing her aside.

628 grumbled and jumped down onto the kitchen floor and sulked as I turned off the stove and threw the other pans into the sink. I winced and nearly fell off the stove when the side of my right foot touched the edge of a searing hot element, but I was able to regain my balance by grabbing onto the back of the stove. 628 watched in silence, probably a little more embarrassed than angry that she nearly burned her house to the ground. Once the smoke died down, I let out a small sigh of relief

I looked angrily at 628 who stood in a corner, trying to use a wet dishtowel to wipe the soot from her fur. "What is the matter with you!?" I shouted. "Are you trying to kill us?!"

628 glared at me and continued to wipe herself down. "I was trying to make myself breakfast." She frowned when she realized the dishtowel was doing nothing to remove the soot from her fur. "I guess I had the stove turned on too high."

"You think!?" Growling, I jumped down from the stove and advanced on her. "Next time you try to cook, let me know so I can get out of the house. You _did _have the stove on too high to cook eggs. They need to be on a low setting or they won't cook properly and–" I stopped and sniffed at the air. "What is that I smell? Is that . . .peanut oil?"

628 looked up sheepishly and nodded slightly. "Ya," She said. "I ran out of Pam so I used the first thing I could find."

I stared both amazed and baffled at 628, thinking how could someone be so stupid? "How could someone who programmed to be so smart, be so stupid?" I asked curtly. "A five year old can learn how to use a stove!"

"Well excuse me," She sneered. "Your right, this is my fault. How could I–a helpless little female with my tiny brain–expect to cook myself breakfast?" 628 placed her hand over her heart and sighed in a mocking fashion. "Oh my, I'm so lucky to have a big strong male around the house to rescue me."

Frustrated, I began rubbing my temple and tried to reason with her. "This is not a sexist issue," I said snappily. "This is not about who is what gender. It's about a headstrong female who has no idea how to work a stove and nearly burning her house down. Need I remind you not all of us here are fireproof!"

628 rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!" I snapped. "But of course that's the reaction I expected. What else should I expect from a selfish, _spoiled_ female and a frigid little ice princess with a paper thin personality!"

628's eye widened in shock. "Oh I'm frigid!?" She yelled. "When every word that comes out of your mouth is just dripping with sarcasm! Your nothing more than a self absorbed _gasbag_! Who walks around with an ego and an air of superiority the size of Texas! And why shouldn't you? I mean you obviously think your so much smarter than everyone else!" 628 angrily spun around and stormed down the hallway. "Why don't you go suck an egg you tool!" I winced as 628 ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. "NERD!" She shrieked.

"OH how original!" I yelled back. "What is this high school!? Why don't you just stuff me in a locker and complete the ensemble!"

"Go jerk off _asshole_!" Was her reply.

I growled and punched the wall. "Stupid female!" I roared.

Heaving and practically driven with rage, I let out a frustrated sigh and walked down the hallway, waiting silently outside the bathroom door. Plopping myself against the wall, I let my behind rest on the floor. What just happened? I asked myself. I had never felt like this before; I just got so angry so quickly. I could feel my boiling hot blood pumping through my body, my throat was sore from yelling so loud. It was horrible but exhilarating. It had to be one of the most intense experiences I ever had with a female. Who knew arguing could be so bittersweet. Suddenly my ears perked up as I heard the sound of running water. 628 must be taking a shower; no doubt to wash the smoke from her fur I realized.

Frowning, I looked down, sniffed my fur, and sighed. I smelled like a used ashtray. Now I had to take a shower too. Because of 628's little fiasco in the kitchen, my fur was covered in soot. I waited for 628 to come out of the bathroom while quietly listening to the sound of the running water. For an instant I turned to look at the door and imagined 628 standing in the shower, heaving and sighing as hot water ran down her body. I gulped and tore my mind away from the image I had created. These thoughts weren't unnatural. After all, I'm a male and she is a reasonably attractive female. It's normal for someone of my gender to have. . .thoughts. Sometimes when I was younger I couldn't help but picture certain scenarios and exchanges; these _scenarios_ would often involve me and other females. Funny how 628 had taken their place. I hated her as a person, but as a male, I had to admit she was attractive.

_I've been in prison too long_. I thought quietly to myself.

I jumped when the door opened and 628 walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her chest. She looked coldly at me and said nothing, just turned away and walked into her room. When her door closed, I stepped into the bathroom.

628's bathroom looked like something you might see out of a magazine. The floor was tiled like any other bathroom. That I expected at least. To my right was the sink which was built into a large counter space; the faucets were bronze and had the shape of fish heads. A large mirror hung on the wall, directly over the sink; a row of light bulbs rounded the mirror, sort of giving it a dressing room feel. Beside the counter was a large medicine cabinet, which was a decorative as the rest of the house. Stowed in the corner of the bathroom was a tall walk-in shower; the glass sliding door was opaque and translucent, making it almost impossible for someone to see the person on the other side. A large, round bathtub wide enough to fit someone of Jumba's size was built in next to the shower, along with a toilet. But what caught my interest was the ivy pattern that ran along the walls. Like every other room in this greenhouse, the bathroom was adorned with a few potted plants, and like every other room the bathroom had a large window built into the far wall that let the morning sun pour in.

After pausing to look around the room, I walked over to the shower and pushed aside the sliding glass door. The floor of the shower was still wet from 628's wash. I could smell some sort of flowery perfume on the air, some kind of shampoo I concluded. When I stepped into the shower I made sure to close the door behind me; I didn't need 628 walking in while I washed. Although I'm a little uncomfortable talking about it, when a male experiment showers he should do so with _all of him_ out. It's hygienic to keep yourself clean, but while in prison I could hardly do so for obvious reasons. I would rather my fellows males think I was some kind of eunuch rather than give those raving sociopaths any incentive. But now that I was in the privacy of my own shower, I could make my cleaning a little more thorough. I turned the brass knobs and water poured down from the shower head. I grabbed a bar of soap and began thoroughly scrubbing the soot from my fur. I was a little sickened when I ran my hand up my chest and could feel the taut outline of my ribcage. I shuddered and began scrubbing faster. It was best if I got this done as fast as possible.

When I was done my shower, I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, making sure to close the glass door behind me. As I walked towards the sink, I grabbed a towel from the towel rack and began furiously drying myself off before wrapping the towel securely around my waist. The warm water had been relaxing and soothing to my aching muscles, but now I was hungry. My stomach angrily churned, demanding that it be fed. I would be happy to oblige but there was no way I was going to ask 628 to cook me anything, and truth be told I was wasn't in the mood to cook. According to the clock on the bathroom wall I hadn't missed breakfast over at Nani's house. I was going over there anyway, why not get a little something to eat as well?

Just then I heard a knock at the door, it was 628. "Are you done in there!?" She yelled from the other side of the door. The knob began to turn and slowly the door opened slightly. "Are you decent?" 628 asked quietly.

I rolled my eyes and made sure I was before pulling off the towel. "Yes I am." I answered flatly.

628 double-checked before throwing the door open and entering the bathroom. "I'm heading over to Nani's for something to eat. If you want to come, then hurry up. I'm leaving now."

Nodding, I discarded the towel and leisurely fallowed 628 into the living room. Due to the smoke I didn't have a chance to notice it before, but now that everything was calm I saw everything in the clear light of day. 628's living room had great lighting. No wonder her plants were flourishing. The windows let an incredible amount of sunlight in. It was like standing outside. 628 had all the windows open, letting a cool tropical breeze ventilate through the house.

When we walked out the front door I noticed how cold 628 seemed. She was probably still a little sore about what I said earlier, in fact it became evident when she knocked me down the porch steps as I walked through the stairway and only kept going down the trail. _Just like a female to hold a grudge. _I thought as I pulled myself from the dirt.

Our walk to Nani's house was long and quiet. 628 didn't say a word but she seemed tense to me. In fact, I noticed she was making sure to stay a few steps ahead of me the whole time. I didn't care, let her be in a bad mood. I wasn't going to let her sour disposition ruin my day. I had far more important things to focus my attention on. . .like the weather for instance. Weather in Hawaii is usually nice, today it was beautiful. The warm air and sunlight felt good against my fur which was still damp from the shower, and the cool breeze that blew through the trees did well to keep the humidity away; the climate was just perfect.

By the time we reached the house, I was happy to get out of her company. Roughly I knocked on the door which was soon answered by Aaron. His face immediately lit up when he saw 628 and I standing just before the threshold.

"Hey bro," He said excitedly. "Come on in, Nani's just cooking up some breakfast."

I smiled and walked into the living room, making sure to slam the door in 628's face before she could come inside.

"What was that for?" Aaron asked, looking back at the door.

Smirking, I waved his comment away and headed into the kitchen. "Oh nothing," I said slyly.

Inside the kitchen, my arrival was instantly recognized with enthusiasm and joy but was dimmed by the usual chaos associated with the early morning. Nani was wild, running back and forth between plates and the stove, desperate to get the food into some mouths before it burned; while at the same time trying to shoo away Pleakley as he tried to add is own personal culinary touch.

"Simon!" My father exclaimed when he saw me enter the kitchen. In a flash he was off his chair and across the room.

"Good morning Dad," I said as he wrapped me in a crushing embrace. When he finally let me go I patted him on the shoulder and headed for the table. Jumba, Lilo, David, Aaron, and Elvis were already seated, each anxiously awaiting the arrival of their meal. I eagerly joined them. Just the smell of those eggs was enough to make my mouth water.

"Ah, good morning Simon," Jumba said as I took a seat beside him.

I smiled and acknowledge him with a slight nod, but my grin quickly turned to a frown when I saw Elvis was sitting opposite to me. I frowned and clamped my hands together. "Morning Elvis," I said shrewdly.

Elvis nodded his head and gave me a mocking salute. "Morning dick-weed," he growled.

"HEY!"

Both of us jumped and looked to Nani who was spooning bacon onto Lilo's plate. "I don't want any arguing at the table," She said sternly. "From now on you two are going to get along and spend time together like loving brothers."

Elvis scoffed and began angrily shoveling food into his mouth.

"Good morning everyone."

I looked to the living room and smiled as 628 walked into the kitchen. "Morning 628," I said loudly. "Have any trouble finding the place?"

628 tensed but forced a smile. "No," She said through clenched teeth."

I grinned but obviously wasn't the only one who noticed 628's arrival. The moment she walked in the room Elvis jumped down from his chair and lurched over to her like a horny dog with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey baby," Elvis said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Did you miss me?"

628 clenched her fists in anger and let a threatening growl escape her throat. "Elvis," She said in a venomous tone. "Take it off before I _break it off_."

Elvis smirked and began slowly running his hand down her side. But just as he was about to clench her breast, he doubled over in pain and fell to the ground after just being punched in the stomach by her shaking fist.

"What's the deal between those two?" I whispered to Aaron.

Aaron smirked, watching with amusement as Elvis pulled himself to his feet. "Dude, Elvis has been trying to get 628 ever since she got here." He stopped to shovel a large amount of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "But she hates his guts so I don't think he has a chance."

Interested, I was about to peruse the subject, but was interrupted by Nani who held a frying pan loaded with eggs.

"How many eggs do you want?" She asked me.

"I'll have a few," I frowned and glared at 628 who sat in an angry silence beside Elvis. "But it would be best to keep 628 away from the stove," I said flatly. "We wouldn't want the house to burn down again."

628 looked up from her plate and smiled sweetly. "Simon's right," She said merrily. " But don't worry Nani, if you were going to make a mistake I'm sure Simon wouldn't hesitate to point it out." 628 looked up at me and smiled again.

"Now don't you two start too," Nani began.

"No,no," I cut across. "She is absolutely right. 628 is a fantastic cook and I was wrong for bringing her culinary skills into question. Actually if you need any help with those egg. I'm sure 628 has plenty of _peanut oil_ lying around the house."

628 looked like she was going to respond but she was silenced by Lilo who quickly shoved a piece of crisp bacon into her mouth before she could utter another word.

"What's with you two?" Aaron asked as 628 and I sunk into a grudging silence while shooting each other dirty looks.

"Oh it's nothing," I told him. "628 and I had an argument. She nearly burnt the house to the ground trying to cook some eggs."

Aaron laughed. "No way man," he exclaimed. "You let 628 cook?" Again Aaron laughed and was about to say more, but a cold glare from 628 to shut him up.

"How many eggs do you want?" Nani asked again.

_15 minutes later._

Letting out a loud belch, I leaned back in my chair and let my bulging stomach protrude out in front of me. I hadn't eaten that good in almost two years.

Amazed, Nani cleared my plate from the table. "Twelve eggs, twenty strips of bacon, two platefuls of home-fries, eight slices of pineapple, two apples, and four tall glasses of milk." Shaking her head, Nani dropped my plate into the sink. "I've never seen someone eat so much."

I burped again and began rubbing my full stomach. "Good breakfast Nani," I complimented. "You can really cook."

Lilo and my father stared amazed at me. Before I was taken away from prison, I always made a habit of eating sparingly. I liked exhibiting at least some self-control at the dinner table. But in reality I have a ravenous appetite just like my father; that was something my brothers and I shared. I bet seeing me eat so ferociously was a big surprise for my father. I even shocked myself when I went back for seconds. But like all good things even breakfast has to come to an end. Eventually our whole party moved into the living room; where 628 had to angrily avoid some more of Elvis' provocative and rather suggestive advances. But eventually things lightened up, and the so-called excitement hit its peak when David arrived with a bunch of large boxes in hand. Apparently the storage unit Nani had purchased to store some of our old stuff was closing down so David had to go down the garage and collect the boxes or they would have been thrown out by the cleaners.

"Hey Simon!" Aaron exclaimed. "You got to come see this."

I sighed and walked over to where Aaron sat, crouched over a large box labeled "Presley's Stuff."

"What's this?" I asked curios.

Opening the cardboard flaps, Aaron began digging around in the box. "Some of Presley's old stuff," He said.

At first I wasn't really interested in the effects of my late brother, but somehow I was sucked into this little ransacking and was even more surprised when I spotted a pile of magazines hidden deep within the box.

"What's this?" I asked, lifting a few of the magazines out of the box. "Play Boy, Busty Beauties? Anyone else a little confused?"

"Oh ya," Aaron said laughing when he spotted the magazine. "Presley had this weird thing for human women."

Curios I began flipping through the pages. But try as I might I didn't understand what my late brother saw in these fleshy creatures.

"How could anyone be attracted to these?" I said confused. "Look at them, they have no fur, no tentacles and only one set of arms."

"Ya I know," Aaron said scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't get it either. Presley was weird like that."

My father groaned and smacked his head.

"Hey everyone!" Lilo yelled with her head in a box. "Look at this!"

I turned to see Lilo had a small black tape held in her hand and written across the label in black marker was "The Kids."

"Oh look," Nani said. "It's one of the videos we made when the kids were young."

My father ears perked up and he jumped for the tape. "Lets watch it." He said.

So it was decided. Nani, David, Jumba, and Pleakley sat on the couch. While my father, Lilo, Aaron, Elvis, myself, and 628 sat on the floor as Nani hit play on the VCR. At first all we could see was static but soon the screen changed to an image of my father standing in front of the camera. The image suddenly whirled around the living room and came to a stop on a large square blanket with a much younger Lilo sitting next to it with her legs crossed.

"Aren't they cute," The Lilo on the video said. Again the camera shifted to the center of the blanket where four small experiments sat playing and squirming around. It didn't take me long to realize that these small youngsters were my brothers and I years and years ago. We were all small, about the size of newborn kittens and almost completely hairless. But if you looked closely you could almost see the first few patches of fur beginning to grow on our pale, pink skin.

"I remember this," The present day Lilo said, excited.

I smiled and looked back to the television screen. The younger me looked up at the camera inquisitively and let out a quiet _mew_. My father laughed and put his arm around my shoulder.

"Stitch!" The video Lilo yelled. "You got to come see this."

Suddenly my dad walked on screen and laid beside his children, a wide smile over his face. At the sight of their father little Aaron and Presley began crawling to Stitch. Only Elvis and I remained behind. Intently, I watched the screen, almost expecting the younger Elvis to throttle my younger counterpart in some way. But he didn't. Rather than pounce on me, the young Elvis mewed and curled up to my side. Soon we were both asleep, huddling up to each other for warmth. And when little Presley tried to push me away, the younger Elvis angrily toppled him over and went back to sleep by my side.

"When you were kids. You and Elvis were inseparable," Lilo said to me. "If we tired to pull you to apart you would cry until we brought the other back. It's almost weird how close you were compared to how you are now."

Guiltily, I turned away from the television screen and looked at Elvis. He must of felt me looking at him because he too turned to look at me and our eyes met. We said nothing but for a moment I caught a glimpse of the relationship we could have had, and what might have been. When I saw us huddling so closely together on that video, I almost felt a sense of loss. I imagined how close we could have been. I could picture us laughing together as brothers and playing like he used to with Aaron and Presley. I could imagine us playing sports and wrestling like a bunch of immature kids. . . .when did things turn sour? When did Elvis first feel the need to hate me so much? When was that first punch thrown? It was nice to think of Elvis and I being happy brothers, but the cold fact of reality hit me hard. I hated Elvis and Elvis hated me. There could be no piece between us. As I watched the two of us on that video, so small and so innocent; I frowned. . .it was almost tragic.

XXXX

Quietly, I sat on the couch with Aaron sitting by my side. At the moment we were the only living things in the house. Everyone else left to do their own thing. Lilo and my father left probably to go cause some mayhem. Jumba and Pleakley left the house in the guise of Lilo's aunt and uncle shortly after. I think Pleakley wanted to go to some new restaurant that just opened up. Nani and David each went to their separate jobs and their kid was at Daycare. That left only Aaron and I alone in the house. He was busy watching cartoons while I was completely absorbed in a book I was reading. . . .It was just like old times.

"Where's 628?" Aaron asked.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Do you know where Elvis is?" I asked.

Aaron shrugged. "Probably somewhere with Bonnie."

Eyebrows raising, I looked away from my book. "Bonnie?" I asked. "What would he be doing with Bonnie?"

Aaron smirked and nudged me with his elbow. "You mean what _wouldn't _he be doing with Bonnie. They've been getting pretty close" Aaron winked. "If ya know what I mean."

"But what about Clyde? I thought the were having children."

Aaron looked at me weirdly. "Dude, she had a miscarriage. They broke up after that. Since then she's been with Elvis.

Confused, I shook my head. "I thought he was lusting after 628."

"Duh," He said flatly. "He's a horn-dog. Elvis has a lot of dates man. Those big muscles of his are good for something." Aaron smirked and flexed his arm. Now I kinda wish I worked out more."

"What do you think of 628?" I asked after short period of silence.

Aaron cocked an eyebrow and a goofy grin came over his face. "Why?" He asked suspiciously.

I shrugged. "Just curios."

"Uh. . .well I guess she kind of hot," He said, tilting his head. "Not really my type though."

I nodded and went back to my book.

"Why? Do you want her?"

I looked up from the sentence I was reading and quickly shook my head. "No of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"You don't think she's hot?"

I thought it over before answering. "Yes. I suppose she is a little attractive."

Aaron smirked and punched my shoulder. "Whatever man."

I rolled my eyes and attempted to get back to my book, but again I was interrupted by Aaron.

"Hey, why do you think they call it a _remote_ control?" He asked, staring questioningly at the remote held in his hand. "It doesn't control the remote. It controls the T.V."

I sighed and stared blankly at my brother. "Aaron, you really are something else," I said.

XXXX

After the time spent with my brother, contemplating the most idiotic things know to man. Lilo and my father showed up and dragged me along for some sort of mud war. I tried to decline, I wasn't really much for that kind of activity. But they dragged me along anyway, despite my objections. Now I was back in 628's shower, trying to scrub the mud from my fur. When I got back home I found the house empty. I didn't really care where she was. With her gone it was the perfect time for me to take a shower. Although she would probably be made when she saw the muddy footprints I left on her floor.

Once my fur had been thoroughly cleaned, I shut off the tap and climbed out of the shower. My wet fur dripped water all over the floor but I could care less. Walking towards the sink, I made to grab for a towel but slipped on the tiled floor and fell on my backside. I quickly managed to climb back on my feet, thankful that no one was present to see that. But just then I heard the door open and I whirled around to see 628 stepping into the washroom. When she saw me standing there she froze in shock.

Blushing, I yelled and quickly covered my genitals with a towel. "What the hell is the matter with you!? Don't you know how to knock?"

"I-I'm sorry," She said looking away. "I didn't know you were in here."

Making sure to keep a firm grip on the towel I walked forward and pushed 628 from the bathroom. Once the door was closed I grabbed the side of my head and sunk to the floor.

_How could this day get any worse_? I thought.

XXXX

"So 628 saw you getting out of the shower," Aaron said, laying back on his bed. We were in his room now. For some reason I felt the need to confide in my brother about my rather embarrassing interaction with 628 in her bathroom. I sat on the floor, with my back against his bed and with my head in my hands. It's funny how quickly I found my way back to my brother.

"It would seem so," I told him blankly.

Aaron shrugged. "So what? So 628 saw your doodle. It's a good thing you didn't take a _cold_ shower. Now _that _would have been embarrassing."

I chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. "Has Elvis come back yet?" I asked.

Aaron shook his head. "Na, haven't seen him all day. But Dad was looking for you."

Curiously, I raised my eyebrows. "Why?"

"He wants to know if you want to come on our annual camping trip."

"What camping trip?"

Aaron looked down at me in the disbelief. "Our manly, men only camping trip. Dads been taking us ever since you were dragged off to prison. It's fun. You should come. It's a whole night of burping, scratching and. . .more burping."

"I don't know," I said hesitantly. "It's only my first day back and it hasn't exactly started off to a great start."

"How longs does it have to be before you can have fun? Dad wants you to come. Dude, you should come with. You can study all that nature crap if you want."

"I'll think about it," I said.

XXXX

"Simon can you hand me that towel?

"Sure Nani," Bending down, I grabbed a towel from the laundry basket and placed it in her outstretched hand. She thanked me and clipped the towel to the clothesline. The dryer had inexplicably stopped working. Jumba was trying to fix it now as we speak. But until then Nani had to hang the clothes out on a line to dry. I happened to be walking by, enjoying the island when she asked me for some help with the laundry. When I was younger I would often help Nani with a few everyday chores, and I was happy to oblige. At first it was uncomfortable, but I think she was starting to warm up to me. I asked her questions, about her kid, about what was it like being a mother; anything to get the conversation rolling.

"Nani," I said, handing her one of Lilo's shirts.

"Ya," She replied.

"Would you ever believe me if I said I didn't attack Lilo?"

Nani's breath caught in her throat and Lilo's shirt fell from her hands. For a moment she was silent but when she did speak I wish I had said nothing.

"I think Stitch was looking for you," She said coolly.

Frowning, I nodded and hurried away form her. But before I rounded the corner to the front of the house, I thought I heard Nani crying. Maybe it was just my imagination. . .or maybe not.

XXXX

By the time night rolled around, I was glad to get back home. My first day back was a little unconventional, but I was glad I made at least some sort of connection with my family. Who knew how long I had before the Galactic Federation learned I was here. No matter what I did, that fact that I was an escaped criminal was always hanging over my head like a dark cloud. Eventually I would have to confess the truth to everyone. But when would that be? When the soldiers of the Galactic Federation kicked down the door and took me away in chains? But I had other things troubling me. The knowledge of Elvis' impending death weighed heavily on my mind. I felt no guilt in the thought of killing my brother, but what would it do to my father?

I walked through the front door and saw 628 sitting quietly on the couch. When she saw me enter the room she blushed and looked away.

Gulping, I climbed onto the couch and stared of into space, careful not to look her in the eye. Honestly I was a little uncomfortable being around her. But I had to clear the air.

"Look," I began. "628, about what happened earlier. . ."

"Simon," She cut across. "It was noting. We're both mature people. It was an accident, let's just. . .forget it."

I nodded and we fell back into silence. Eventually 628 went to bed and I was thankful to get some rest. I was glad to see the back of this day. I could only hope tomorrow would go better.

* * *

**Alius111: **Well another chapter has gone by. Sorry it was a little rushed at the end. After the video scene, I didn't know what to do so it's basically just a jumble of some notes I had. I have some big plans coming up, I'm just trying to find a way to lead into them. The next chapter will be better.

On a lighter side, I have finally christened my new laptop by writing a chapter on it. And to all of those who are interested, I have joined Avatarjk137's tournament _A Winner Is You!?_ You should check that out if you already haven't. It looks fun and it's an interesting way to hone your writing skills.

Until next time.


	19. Psionic Burst And Sicknesses

**Alius111: **Sorry about the long wait, but exams took up most of my time and I just wanted to relax during the weekend. I know nothing really happens in this chapter, but trust me, it's essential to the plot. This is all leading up to something big.**

* * *

**

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Psionic Burst and Sicknesses**

_Six Days Later. . ._

Panting, my fur soaked with sweat, I sat upright on the couch, frightfully staring off into the darkness. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, I had to struggle to catch my breath. Staring around 628's deserted the living room, I realized it was still well into the night. I could see a lone beam of moonlight streaming in through the curtains. The ghostly light made eerie shadows which almost seemed to reach out for me in the dark. At that chilling thought a shudder ran down my spine. My face felt hot and wet. Reaching up, I used my forearm to wipe the tears from my eyes. Had I been crying? A moment ago I was sleeping soundly on 628's couch, nice and comfy in my thick blankets only to be awakened by a deafening scream that shrieked from the inside of my mind. I could faintly remember the nightmare that had interrupted my uneasy rest. I could still see the dead, blank eyes of my brother staring at me with their dead lights. They were so cold and blank; the very centers of his eyes had been white like spiderwebs; his mouth had been moving, he was trying to tell me something but I couldn't hear what he was saying. The more I tried to focus on the apparition, the more the details of my nightmare faded into my subconscious. Desperately I tried to cling to these images, but it was already too late. They were gone. A blank darkness filled my mind where the memory of my nightmare once was. It was frustrating. Every time I had one of these nightmares, I would try to hold on to the images that had frightened me so badly. Only to have them fade away every time; becoming clouded and barely reminiscent of the horrifying apparitions they once were, until they fell completely from my mind's eye. Then I would be left, panic stricken and alarmed, knowing I was afraid but not knowing why.

I was always having nightmares. Ever since I returned to Earth, every time I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, I had nightmares. I didn't know the cause of these night terrors, nor could I barley understand their meaning. I believe in Sigmund Freud's theory that dreams held special meaning and acted as a window into our subconsciouses. Some say dreams are our repressed desire taking form in our mind. They were supposed to mean something. But I hadn't the foggiest idea what my dream meant. How was I supposed to identify the meaning of these nightmares if I couldn't even remember them? The anxiety and lack of sleep was almost enough to drive me insane and 628 and her constant nagging isn't helping my cause. It's only three days after I returned to Earth and began living with this female experiment, and already I'm prepared to strangle her in her sleep. We're always fighting. And about stupid things too. It would always start with something small—like one of us moving the can opener, then one of us would do something to escalate the problem into a screaming fit of rage; and after that, all Hell breaks loose. Our arguments always end with her stalking off to her room and with me sulking on the couch, imagining all the horrible things I could do to finally shut her up. But why was I focusing on 628? I should be concentrating on these nightmares. Is it possible they are stemming from the stress I've been enduring lately? Constantly scanning for the federation ships has me ripping out my fur, and with 628 and the whole "Elvis Dilemma," it's a miracle I haven't had a bloody heart attack.

Feeling downcast, I stared into the dinning room. From where I sat I spied a bowl of fruit sitting on the table. At the thought of food my stomach gave a loud growl. Careful not to wake 628(which is nearly impossible; she could hear a pin drop on the other side of the island) I silently crept into the kitchen and approached the refrigerator. It was strange walking around the house in the dark of night. I felt like a cat burglar breaking into some strange women's house. And by the look of the sterile and spotless kitchen surfaces: a very neurotic and tightly wound women.

"Let's see what she has to eat," I opened the fridge door and began skimming through the shelves of food, ignoring the bitter cold air. By the looks of it, 628 made a habit of keeping the fridge stocked. "What's this?" I moved aside a ball of cabbage to reveal a large, round plate of cheesecake, and taped to the plate was a small note. I recognized the tiny black scrawl as 628's untidy handwriting. Curios, I ripped the note from the plate and held it up to the light.

"_Dear Simon_," I read quietly. "_This is my cheesecake_, _HANDS OFF! X, O, X, O."_

When I finished reading her note I frowned.

_Damn,' I thought. 'It's taken.' At the loss of the cheesecake, my stomach growled in tragedy._

Feeling a little disappointed, I was about to close the fridge door when I spotted the drain rack sitting on the counter. It was still loaded with dishes. In the fridge's thin light, the shape of plates and forks in the drain rack almost looked like a head. The odd angle of the knifes and forks sort of resembled a crooked smile, and the spatula handle kind of reminded me of a very long nose.

I smiled and greeted the head. "Good evening Mr. President," I said, "This is a lovely party. I was surprised when I was invited, especially after just winning a _Nobel Prize _for my vast accomplishments in all fields of science."

The dish rack was unresponsive, quietly leering back at with it's fork and knife smile.

"What? The cheesecake?" I turned mischievously to the fridge and shook my head. "Have some? Oh no I couldn't. . . .I really shouldn't—well if you insist." I shrugged and grabbed the slice of cake from the plate, and taking a large bite of it. The cake was rich but went down smooth. After I devoured 628's dessert, I crumpled up her threatening note, throwing it over my shoulder and into the waste bin.

_'I'm going to regret this tomorrow,' _I thought as I began down the hall and towards the bathroom. I had a strong urge to urinate probably from 628's health shakes, they're nothing but liquid (and they taste terrible.) Jumba put me on a strict high fat, and high protein diet to help my body replenish it's strength I was dangerously malnourished due to the lack of nutrition in the prison food I've been eating for the past year and a half. At every meal 628 would fix me a healthy and nutritious shake, and at every meal I would have to sit there and drink the vile concoction while she watched. I don't know why but they had me constantly running for the bathroom.

After I relived my bladder, I exited the bathroom, making sure the toilet seat was down (628 was adamant about that) I suddenly found myself in the living room with nothing to do. I was too anxious to sleep and the sugar rush I was getting from the cheesecake was getting me a little jittery. The nightmare I had only moments ago was a thing of the past, forgotten, a past memory for me to contemplate later. For now I was content to sit on the couch and settle down with a good book. Maybe reading something boring might lull me back to sleep. It was still late—I stopped and checked the clock.

"3:30AM," I said, walking towards 628's bookcase. I began searching through her books, looking for something to serve as a catalyst for a good night sleeps. But so far. . .nothing. "What's this?" I reached up and grabbed a thin play write from one of the higher shelfs. The cover was a light pink with the title scrawled across the jacket in thin, disturbingly elaborate writing. "The Vagina Monologues?" I paused and then placed the book back on the shelf. "Perfect," I said. "She's a feminist.. . . .what else does she have here?" Unfortunately the rest of my search was in vain. Besides some plays written by Shakespeare, nothing else satisfied my taste in reading. But I soon discovered that 628 seemed to have a taste for corny, romance novels. . . the sort of novels that I despised. It was incredible, every book either had a women riding a hoarse on the cover, or some over muscled man wrapped in silk with his long golden hair flowing in the wind. "Oh look at this," I stepped up on my toes and pulled a thick paperback novel with a book mark sticking from the pages. "Bliss at Twilight," I said, reading the title. Feeling a little curios, I opened the cover to the center of the book and read a short passage.

"_Bartzina flew to the window, her gossamer robes flowing behind her like the wings of a graceful, midnight swan taking flight into the clear night air. Her sapphire eyes widened in alarm as she gazed at the Adonis standing just beyond the diamond-like shield, the twilight bathing the hedges like the gentle kiss of an autumn rain._

"_Oh Slate," Bartzina gasped, her china doll face deepening to the shade of a rose. "How could you come here? If my father finds you here he will throw you the natives! Oh you brave, brave fool."_

_Slate advanced on the frail women, his brazen fingers tearing at the folds of her robe. "How could I stay away when you know I love you?" He said, carefully laying a kiss on her snow white face. "I cannot stay, ask me not to leave you. . .not now and not ever. Know that I love you. If not now, when? Oh Bartzina, Marry me and be mine. Come, escape from the Duke and his prying eyes. Come away with me and we shall escape this dungeon that forsakes our love. The loyal vicar has prepared a barter for our safe passage into Paris. Say that you will come." Slate stopped and looked lovingly into Bartzina's eyes. "For without you," he whispered, "life is not worth living." With the strength of a lion, but with the grace of an eagle drooping from the sky, escaping a fiery sun; Slate kissed Bartzina._

"_Oh Slate," she gasped with passion. "I will marry you. . ." And so she gave herself to him. She let herself fall into the endless, crystalline ocean that was their love. For nothing could tear them apart, for a love as pure, and unyielding as theirs could conquer all boundaries. . ."_

I slammed the book shut and gawked down at the cover in disgust. "How does this garbage ever get published? Watch out To Kill A Mockingbird, I think I see the next great American novel coming your way." I rolled my eyes, and placed the so called "book" back on the shelf. After reading that I almost felt sick; almost like my mind was tainted. I didn't even want to picture the sort of strange, romance obsessed women who read this trash. I swear, I could write one of these in my sleep. All I would need is a few explicit love-scenes and about a hundred synonyms for human genitalia. And who names their main character—I paused to read the back of the book. "Bartzina Chastity. . ." Quickly I looked away from the novel almost like I was afraid it would infect me.

_'The world of literature is dying,' _I thought tragically as I lied down on the couch. The blankets weren't that comfortable. My body heat had already dissipated from the fabric, leaving my make-shift bed cold, and uninviting. I doubted I would get back to sleep, but I didn't just want to stare up at the ceiling and do nothing . . . but at the moment it looked like I didn't have much of a choice. From time to time my thoughts would drift back to 628. It was a little strange how she kept popping up in my mind. I could picture her lying in bed, her eyes closed, her chest slowly moving up and down, up and down. Eventually I was able to fall asleep. But before I dozed off, I turned over and forced 628 from my head. . . .I don't need her interrupting my rest; I think I'd prefer the nightmares.

XXXX

The next morning I awoke with a bad cramp in my lower back and a not so sunny disposition. Even the weather, which lately seemed just as determined to spoil my good mood as 628, was warm and humid. 628's couch—which had been a blessing when compared to my prison bed—seemed to become less and less comfortable as the nights rolled by. At first I would be out like a light, but now I was vividly and horribly aware of the couch's softness and lack of back support. At least my bed in prison was good for the back. Just after two nights of sleeping in 628's living room; I was ready to pay a visit to a chiropractor. I also missed being able to stretch out. The cushions were so slim and narrow, but I couldn't complain; the only thing that would get me is another argument with 628—but was that necessarily a bad thing? As much I would have liked to, I couldn't spend the rest of my day lying on the couch, complaining about the woes of an uncomfortable sofa. Despite the throbbing knot at the base of my spine, I somehow managed to drop from the couch and walk around the living room. The house was surprisingly . . . vacant I realized. Upon further investigation, I discovered 628 was not in her room. The only thing that might of suggested she was there was her thick, white blanket, thrown aside and her pillow ruffled and flattened.

_What time is it?_

I looked at the clock. It was still early in the morning. Still too early for Nani to start breakfast. . .then where was she? Just to be sure I called out her name. . .no answer. Curios, I stroked the bottom of my chin. I don't know why I suddenly cared where 628 had gone. Was I worried? No of course not. But I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. I'm a very logical person and not one to put instinct over reason. I tend to listen to my head rather than my gut. But. . .was something wrong? I've always had a very wild imagination—which at sometimes had a habit of running away with me; maybe I'm just being paranoid. Just to be sure, I checked around the house. My search inexplicably brought me to the sliding glass door located at the back of the kitchen. As I opened the door, I realized I had never seen 628's backyard; it was something she neglected to show me during her so called 'tour' when I first arrived. Now I was a little more anxious to see what was beyond that glass door. And what I saw when I left the house and entered the outdoors, amazed me.

628's backyard was enormous and breathtakingly beautiful. If her love for plants was evident inside the house; outside, it exploded into a burst of some the most exotic plants I have ever seen. I found myself standing on a large, open veranda that lined the outside wall of the house. Circling the veranda was a line of tall, bamboo torches that lay solitary and unlit. I looked up and lining the roof was a pattern of electrical lanterns that not only provided relaxing light, but were a good bug-zappers as well. To my right there was a small section of the porch partly enclosed by a lightweight, freestanding, open-sided, canopy that provided excellent shade for a little area dedicated to a green, plastic table and a few comfy looking chairs. When I looked to my left, I saw a large, round hot tub enclosed with a glass lid that was kept shut to keep the water clean. But what really amazed me lay beyond the porch. It seemed 628 had cleared away a lot of the palm trees and used the space to make herself a garden. I Walked down the porch steps and began strolling around, staring amazed at all the plants I saw. 628's garden was paved with webs of narrow, cobblestone roads which extended and branched out to separate flowers beds, containing different types of plants and flowers. I was surrounded by orchids and lilies, and hundreds of tropical flora. I walked down a thin path that traveled to the center of the garden and saw a large white gazebo with a picnic table situated in the center, shielded from the sun's light. It all seemed like a little too much to me. . .maybe a tad bit superfluous.

For a moment I sat under the gazebo on the picnic table, staring around at the various lilies and orchids. The sun was hot and the air was humid, but the shade provided by the gazebo made the temperature just right, and just bearable. I let out a loud yawn and stretched my arms. The cramp in my lower back was starting to subside. Just then I looked down at the picnic table, noticing the small clump of black fur on its surface. Amazed, I raised my arm and began racking my claws through my fur and as I did so loose hair began fall from my skin and drop to the ground like hundreds of tiny black needles. I was already starting to shed. Things were starting to look up; I was about to wipe the fur from the table when I raised my eyes to the jungle and saw someone standing just at its edge; right where the garden ended and continued on as palm trees. It was 628. Strangely she wasn't moving.

Quietly I rose from the picnic table and made my way over to where she stood. When I arrived she didn't even acknowledge that I was there. Her body seemed loose and limp, almost like she had sunk into entropy. Her arms hung loosely at her sides like pieces of dead weight; her whole seemed numb and lax. Gingerly I reached out and pocked her side with my finger. No response. It was then that I noticed her face. It was blank and unresponsive; the muscles in her face were relaxed and sagging. Her eyes were empty and lifeless, almost like all the light had been stolen from them. It was strange, it was almost like she was—I don't know any other way to explain it—it was almost like she was. . ._turned off._ Like a machine who's owner had hit the off switch, and now she just stood there like a windup toy that had reached the end of its energy. Just then an Interesting phenomenon took place. I noticed the air around her body seemed to shimmer and glow a deep shade of orange. I was a little alarmed but I had to see what was happening. Suddenly 628's head snapped upwards and began staring up at the sun; her eyes began to glow a bright orange and the shimmering air began to swirl around her and seep into her skin; almost like she was absorbing it.

"Fascinating," I said watching her intently. 628 was recharging herself. According to her file, she had infinite power reserves but must draw power from external sources; in this case the most significant source of energy being the sun. I was witnessing an experiment in one of her most private and personal rituals. From a scientific point of view I was experiencing something incredible. And as a scientist, I would watch, and observe. Suddenly something remarkable happened: I watched—wide-eyed—as 628's fur began to change from a light beige to bright crimson red; two long, sharp, maroon tentacles emerged from her head and extended down to the earth. The patches of white fur around her eyes darkened and became bright red. 628 was reverting to her original form. Whether or not she was aware of this I couldn't say, but it was an amazing spectacle to watch.

I jumped and swore as something hard hit me in the back of the head. I turned around and ducked as a rock came soaring towards my forehead. When I recovered, I frantically searched the area to see rocks, leaves, and palm tree limbs floating listlessly through the air. Cautiously, I outstretched my finger and pocked one of the rocks, sending it swirling away. I whirled around, staring both shocked and amazed at 628. Her eyes were glowing brighter than ever; the air around her body seemed to surge with a bright, electric energy. My mind screamed for me to run, but I had to stay.

I watched in mute fascination as the water from a artificial pond rose into the air and began coiling and swirling around 628 like a watery snake; suddenly the water froze, becoming a solid stream of ice, but then liquefied just as quickly. The blades of grass at her feet became taut and then ripped from the earth, floating and rotating around 628, becoming a vortex of water, rocks, and grass.

When a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead, I looked skywards. A dark blanket of storm clouds was barreling in from the north, bringing winds and lightning with them. The sun was blocked by the clouds, and the winds increased in velocity. 628's shining eyes became like lanterns in the near-darkness. Deciding, I had enough: I turned towards the gazebo (Which was hovering a few feet above ground) and began walking towards the house; but before I could take a step I felt something grab me from behind; my body went stiff as if I was in the grip of some powerful force and without warning, I was lifted into the air and began orbiting around 628 along with the water, and rocks, caught in her burst of psionic energy. I yelled and tried to fight it, but couldn't escape. I felt as if some tremendous pressure was compacting my body. Soon it became unbearable. As I felt my lungs compact, I knew 628 was going to squeeze the life out of me.

Just then 628 blinked and her body went rigid. The shining glow in her eyes died and became black. Gasping as if coming up from underwater for air, 628 closed her eyes tight and I dropped to the ground, hitting the earth with a soft thud. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived as a deluge of water and grass fell on me, leaving me soaked and covered in mulch.

628 gawked down at me and the frantically at her surroundings. She seemed confused. . .almost frightened.

"What happened?" She said.

XXXX

An hour later I found myself sitting on 628's couch with 628 herself sitting next to me. She had reverted back to her old form. Her fur was now back to it's light beige. Honestly I thought she looked better with red fur, but now was not the time to mention that.

Taking a sip of my tea, I set my cup on the coffee table and watched 628 as she levitated her glass, letting it float five inches above her palm. Inside the glass; the ice cubes were clinking together, the ice tea swirling around like a tiny whirlpool.

"How long have you known?" I asked.

628 sighed and let the glass drop onto the coffee table. "For a while now," she said.

I nodded and offered her some of my tea to calm her nerves which she gratefully accepted. "Have you always had trouble controlling your mental powers?" I questioned as she drained my cup.

628 shook her head and placed the tea cup on the table. "No. . .well yes, but it was never this bad. It's gotten worse over the past few weeks. I can do little things—like make that cup float, and read minds, but sometimes I just. . .lose control."

This troubled me. I wanted to milk her for as much information as I could. If her powers weren't under her control, that made 628 very dangerous—and not just to other people, but to herself as well. After the incident in the garden, I brought her down to my laboratory and but her under a full scan. As far as I could tell there was nothing wrong with her; if she had a glitch my computer would have spotted it.

"Physically there's nothing wrong with you," I said. "It's possible that this _lack of control_ is stemming from some psychological reason." I stopped and looked at her intently. "Is there anything that is causing you a great deal of stress?"

628 shook her head and drained her ice tea. "No, I feel fine," I noticed when she said 'no' her eyes darted back and forth and she suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. I had lived with her long enough to learn her body language. She was obviously hiding something. But if she didn't want to discuss it I wasn't going to force her, so I decided to change the subject.

"Have you told Jumba about this?"

628 scoffed. "No I haven't told Jumba. I haven't told anyone. He already he thinks I'm a failed experiment. Imagine what he would think if I told him that at anyone moment I might accidentally rip the island in two. . .he'd probably dehydrate me."

As much as I would like to deny it. If Jumba thought 628 could possibly put the whole island in jeopardy; he probably _would_ dehydrate her back into an experiment pod. 628 asked me to promise not to tell anyone. She didn't want to be turned into a pod anymore than I wanted her to. It was best if I kept this between us.

"I won't tell anyone," I promised. "Everything you've told me doesn't leave this room."

628 smiled and placed her hand over mine. "Thank you," she said, "that's very sweet."

I gulped and chuckled nervously. "Well, don't be too surprised. I'm actually a pretty nice guy."

Again 628 smiled. "I've noticed," She said quietly.

"I-I think I better put these in the sink," I stammered, indicating the empty glass and tea cup.

628 looked to the cups for a moment, giving them a thoughtful and curios glance. "Alright." 628 jumped down from the couch, collected the glasses and headed into the hallway. When she was in the kitchen, I let out an uneasy sigh. Was it hot in here? I suddenly felt very warm behind the ears. Gulping, I looked out the window. The sky was still dark. A very chilling breeze was moving over the palm trees causing them to shift and sway. Soon it became so cold, I had to shut the window. It was incredible: as long as I've lived here I've never seen it get so cold. But despite the unnatural weather, I still felt strangely warm.

I jumped when 628 called my name from the kitchen.

"Simon!" She called. "Can you give me hand with these dishes!?"

I shifted in place and turned my head towards the dinning room. From where I stood, I could almost see into the kitchen. A very large potted plant was blocking my view.

"Yes alright!" I replied, heading through the dinning room. When I entered the kitchen, I found 628 standing on the counter with a rag and a sponge in her hands. The right sink was filled with foamy soap and dirty dishes. And the left sink was filled with clear rinsing water. When 628 saw me enter the kitchen, she beckoned me over and tossed the sponge into my hand.

"You'll wash and I'll dry," She said, wringing out her rag.

I gave her a strange look. "Isn't that a dishwasher?" I asked, pointing to the machine in question.

"It's broken," 628 turned towards me and outstretched her hand. I let out a surprised yelp as I was lifted into the air, and placed carefully on the counter in front of the right sink.

"Don't do that again," I said feeling aggravated by being treated like a rag doll.

628 giggled under her breath. "Fair enough," she replied.

Keeping a firm hold on the sponge, I plunged my hands into the scolding water. I lifted a plate from its soapy blanket and began furiously scrubbing dried bits of food from its glass face; then once it was clean I handed it to 628, where she dried it with her rag and place it in the appropriate cupboard. We went on like this for almost fifteen minutes; all the while I counted the silverware as I washed it. For next five minutes we worked in silence, and in that time the most exciting thing was a couple of forks that still had a little bit of cheese stuck to their prongs. Thankfully 628 broke the silence. If I had to spend another moment in that working silence I was going to throw something.

"Dammit!" 628 cursed. "Simon, a spoon slid under the fridge. Can you do me a favor? Lift up the fridge and go get it."

I dropped the plate I was cleaning, staring down at the soapy water. She didn't know. "628," I muttered. "I can't."

"Oh come on," She said frustrated. "Don't be lazy. It's just down there." 628 raised her finger and pointed fervently to the fridge. "Just lift it up and it's right there."

I sighed, looking away in shame. "No. . .I literally _can't_ lift up the fridge."

628 gawked at me strangely when suddenly a look of realization came over her face—which was instantly replaced by an expression of guilt and remorse. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized regretfully. "I just thought you weren't flameproof. I didn't know you couldn't . . ." She trailed off when she became aware of the saddened look on my face. "Do you know why?"

I sighed and resumed washing the plate. "It's a birth defect," I relayed sadly. "When I was born there were. . ._complications_. In short, I don't have any of my father's powers. . .I'm the weak link in my family. Genetically I'm flawed and not whole." I let out another sigh and handed 628 the plate, while she listened, becoming saddened and pitiful. "That's why I've never found a mate. Female experiments are like rats, they can sense flaws in their mates. If I ever have a child there's a strong possibility that my genetic defect would be passed down to it They've always looked at me like I was some kind of disgusting bug that needs to be squashed." As I spoke I became tense and angry with each word I uttered, practically shoving the plates into 628's hands. "To tell you the truth: your the only female who's said more than two words to me."

628 scrunched up her face in disgust. "That is so shallow," she said. "That is just really disgusting. How can people be so superficial?"

"Do you blame them?" I replied, handing her another glass. "Females want a male that can give them strong children. And why wouldn't they? Maybe I don't have any special abilities, but I have something they don't."

"What's that?" 628 asked. What was that? Was that a hint of curiosity in her voice?

"Character," I answered. "I don't have a mind like a supercomputer, but still I'm considered one of the most intelligent sentient lifeforms in the galaxy. And I had to work for it. I just didn't have it handed to me at birth. I had to work hard and strive to get where I am. . .things like that build character."

628 nodded in understanding.

"But. . .character won't find me a mate. The sad fact is, I'll probably never have children because of my. . . ._weakness_."

628 frowned and placed a soapy paw on my shoulder. "Your not weak," she said kindly. "Your pretentious and a little pompous. . .but your not weak."

I chuckled lightly and went back to washing the dishes. "So why haven't you found a mate yet?" I asked, changing the subject. I wanted to steer the conversation away from me as fast as possible. It seemed to be working.

628 shrugged, wiping a small blotch off a wine glass. "Males don't like me."

Curiously, I looked her up and down. "Why not you? You look—" I stopped when 628 cocked an eyebrow. "You. . .you look alright."

628 laughed to herself. "I don't know. I guess there's something about a strong, independent female that's sends head strong, testosterone driven males running for the hills. They all want some bubble headed, big-chested, damsel in distress that needs to be rescued."

"What about Elvis? He seems to like you."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she piled the clean plates in the cupboard. "Let's just say it's not my _mind_ he's interested in." 628 shrugged. "Besides, I went out with him a few times. . . and he wasn't anything special."

The glass I was rinsing slipped from my hand and feel to the floor, but luckily 628 was able to catch it with her mind. "You went out with Elvis?" I asked, a little surprised. "What did you see in him?"

"It was around the time I was first hydrated," 628 replied. "I had no friends, I was lonely. And Elvis seemed really. . .sweet and nice." 628 smirked and leaned towards my ear. "And just between the two of us; he has the _hottest_ bodies I've ever seen. I mean you could grate cheese on his stomach."

"Um, 628," I said a little repulsed. "I'm all for conversation, but he's my brother. For future reference, I'd thank you not to talk about him in front of me. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable."

628 laughed and apologized. "Sorry," she said. "I should really think before I say something."

"So when did things go sour between you and. . .my brother?"

628 frowned. I guess what was coming wasn't a fairy tale ending. "Well one day I brought over here to my house. I wanted show him it when it was finished. Anyway, Elvis really showed me his true colors that night. I went into the kitchen to get something to drink, I came back into the living room. . .and there he was."

"There he was?"

628 nodded. "Yup, all of him. I guess he thought he'd been playing the nice-guy long enough to get—_something_—in return. Of course I said no." 628's grip tightened on her rag until the stitching began to tear. "And that's when things went sour. When I rejected him, I guess I must of really hurt his ego. He tried to _force_ me to mate with him," when she said force she said it with as much disgust and anger as she could muster. I looked around the kitchen and noticed the stove and fridge began to shake in place. The water in the sink began to bubble and boil as 628 grew angrier. "So after that," she continued vehemently. "I booted his ass out the door, and here we are."

"What a prick," I said disgusted.

_How did I know trying to rape a female wouldn't be passed Elvis?_

Our conversation which had touched upon many sensitive and emotional subjects—inexplicably died. Sometimes when having a conversation, it gradually declines like the temperatures in the polar ice caps. It slowly fades away into a calm, and peaceful silence that leaves the talkers feeling fulfilled and easy around each other. But our talk just died, died like an old man who's heart suddenly stops beating. Did it gradually decline? No. It came to an abrupt halt—just this sudden quiet and disturbing silence where we were left to contemplate the thoughts running through our heads. Our conversation ended with "What a prick," uttered by my own mouth. Now it was dead, gone and buried. Now all that was left was a disturbing, and thick calm. Nothing like the quiet had our talk ended the way it should have. But that's what you get when you touch sensitive subjects. No one really wants to discuss them, but somehow they always find their way into normal conversation. And after they have made their debut and all is said and done; maybe we feel a little resentful to other person for letting us discuss some of our deepest and darkest secrets—like they should have none we wanted to keep it private. But still, the ever-present 'other person' always has a way of drawing these things out. And at the end. . .there is always silence. That quiet, thick, and thoughtful silence.

Sighing, I looked out the small, square window positioned right over the sink and jumped upright. Eyes-widening, and excited smile came over my face. Immediately I dropped the sponge, jumped down from the counter and ran for the front door. 628 yelled in surprise, inquiring what was wrong, but I didn't listen. I couldn't miss it. After all those months spent in prison, I dreamed of feeling this again. And now that I had the opportunity; I wasn't going to let it pass me by.

"What's wrong?" 628 gasped as I ran for the door."

Excited I ignored her and threw open the door. I ran out onto the porch and looked up at the darkened and murky sky. I closed my eyes, disregarding the chilling wind that caused my long ears to flap and bend in the wind. I spread my arms and allowed the cold, icy water to run down my fur. It felt so vivid but so good. It felt even better than I imagined it would. It was something I thought about non-stop in prison; something I imagined while staring up at the blank, steel ceiling of me cell. And now it was finally a reality. . .it was raining.

"Simon, get back in here," 628 called from inside the house. "It's freezing, your going to get sick."

I ignored her calls and ran out into the clearing, trudging through the massive puddles that were beginning to form. "Come on!" I yelled back. "It's just a little rain!" I laughed and splashed in the puddles. It feels so good to let loose once in a while. I'm usually so calm and uptight. But just to let go and play in the rain; I almost felt like a child again.

628 rolled her eyes and chuckled at my childishness. She walked out of the house and into the rain, first raising her arm into the air, forming an umbrella of psionic energy.

"Okay, that's enough," She said loudly as a fork of lightening streaked across the sky. "It's really coming down. We should go in."

"Nonsense!" I yelled. "This is the most fun I've had in years!" I laughed and threw a ball of mud at 628.

The thunder overhead gave an earthshaking clap. The rain became ferocious, it started as a harmless drizzle but became a deluge. The winds increased becoming bitter and cold. My teeth chattered and my fur began to develop a coating of frost, but still I wouldn't go back inside. In retrospect it probably wasn't the best of ideas, but I was having too much fun. Despite 628's constant warning that I was going to get sick. I remained outside in the storm for hours. After all, what were the chances that I was actually going to get ill?

_One Day Later. . ._

It was the next day after the storm, still early in the morning. I lay on 628's couch curled up in a thick blanket. Grumbling, I turned over and coughed into my fist. 628 was right. I got sick. Spending so much time in the freezing rain gave me the flu. My forehead was scolding hot; my whole body ached, and my nose was running like Niagara falls. I was surrounded by a small minefield of used tissues all clumped up and discarded like little white soldiers. The sickness was unbearable. I felt like I was going to die. Actually, death would have been a nice reprieve from the constant aches and pains. At least 628 had offered to take care of me during my hours of need. It was a very kind gesture and the only thing I had to endure was a few snide comments on how she was right and I was wrong. She was starting to sound like a nagging mother. Still, I think I would of preferred her over the flu. . .if only by just a little.

"Well, well, well," 628 said walking in from the kitchen, a wide satisfactory smile plastered on her smug face. "What do we have here?"

Sniffling, I let out a loud sneeze. "I'm not sick—" I was interrupted by a violent coughing fit; quickly I snatched a fresh tissue from the box and coughed up a fresh batch of phlegm. When I was finished, 628 grabbed the tissue from my hand, inspecting the mucus.

"What are doing?" I muttered.

"Checking your phlegm," she replied, using her keen eyes to inspect my snot. "It's yellow," 628 announced after a moment. "An obvious sign of infection. . .your a very sick boy Simon. Your staying in bed for the rest of the day."

"No," I said instantly. "I need to get to my lab," 628 made an annoyed gesture, but I beat her to the punch. "I'm not going to remonstrate with you 628," I blurted out. "I'm a male, and I'm going to do whatever I want. I will not be made a prisoner in this house."

"Oh,_ remonstrate__," _628 mocked. "Look at me, I'm Simon, I have thesaurus stapled to my forehead. Well I don't care what you say. Maybe you wouldn't be sick if you had listened to me, but no; you wanted to play in the rain. I mean why should you—a strapping male of such intelligence—listen to the advice of a little 'ole female. And yet, here you are: as hot as a furnace and sick as a dog. If only you listened to the one who said going out in the rain was a bad idea. . .now who was that?" 628 stared thoughtfully at the ceiling while taping the bottom of her chin. "Oh ya," she exclaimed, "ME!"

Mumbling grumpily, I slouched in my bed. _What the hell does she know? There a thousand other things that could have caused my sickness. . .at least things can't get any worse._

Just then the front door flew open and in walked Lilo, Aaron, and my father.

"Aloha Simon," Lilo greeted cheerfully. "How are you feeling?" I caught wind of a faint trace of pity in her voice. They all had pitiful expressions on their face. They came here to feel sorry for me.

"Morning all" I replied with as much joy as I could in my present state. "I'm feeling fine. This one," I inclined my head towards 628, "Thinks I'm ill."

"You _are sick_," 628 argued. "He's been arguing with me all morning. He's so deep in denial I'm surprised he hasn't run out of air."

"I keep telling you, you-you demented harpy: I'm not—" I was silences by 628 who chose that precise moment to shove a thermometer in my mouth. I grumbled in silence, staring at 628 resentfully.

"How are you holding up bro?" asked Aaron, walking quietly towards the end of the couch.

Due to the thermometer I couldn't speak so, I just shrugged and nodded my head.

"That's good," Aaron said, getting my message. "You look like hell."

I growled and shot him a sour look.

"Okay, time to take that thermometer out," 628 leaned forward and pulled the thin glass tube from my lips and examined the tiny red tip in the light. "Your fever has gone up," she said flatly. "You'll be here for a while."

"I want Simon to come home," my father suddenly blurted out. Before anyone could stop him, my father was already untangling me form the blankets and was getting ready to hoist me onto his back.

"Stitch I don't think that's such a good idea," 628 quickly interjected. "I think he should stay here."

"Naga," my father said adamantly. "Stitch Dad. Stitch make Simon better."

"Dad," I began nervously. "I don't think that's necessa—" I stopped in mid-sentence and began coughing violently. Once the fit subsided I planned to object to my father's boastful declaration of transporting me to Lilo's home, but before I could ever object; my Dad had me slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and was already heading out the door with Lilo, Aaron, and a very befuddled 628 fallowing closely at his heels.

My view from my father's back was almost as unpleasant as the trip over to the house itself. Over night the weather hadn't improved much, it was still cold and bleak and only aggravated my flu which was becoming worse every moment I spent outdoors, but my objections fell on deaf ears as my determined and oblivious father carried me up the front steps.

When we were finally inside and out of the cold; my father quickly carried me across the living room and plopped me onto the couch. I let out a disgruntled moan and began coughing.

"Ow," I said, massaging my sore throat.

Frowning, my dad covered me up with a patchwork quilt, taking special care to make sure the covers were tucked tightly under my sides.

"Stitch!" 628 yelled, practically kicking open the door. "What is the matter with you? It's freezing out there, are you trying to kill him?" 628 advanced on my father looking positively livid. "You should have left him at my house."

"He's _my_ son," my dad growled.

"Ya well, he's _my_ roommate," 628 retorted.

My father's upper lips began to tremble and 628's eyes narrowed. I was afraid this was going to turn to blows. I had to intervene before they killed each other.

"Um. . .excuse me," I said weakly.

"628 nala queesta!" My father bellowed, completely ignoring my pleas.

628's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What did you say to me!?"

"EXSCUSE ME!" I yelled(even though it killed my throat to do so.) I paused for a moment to cough and rub my neck.

My father and 628 stopped arguing, both looking surprised in my direction.

"As much as I'm flattered by this demented power struggle," I continued in a raspy and quiet tone. "This is not helping me. I would appreciate it if the both of you would be quiet so I can get some sleep."

628 and my father glared at each other—thankfully remaining silent. When 628 finally left, my father offered to take care of me and to bring me anything I needed. But so far he proved incompetent at everything he attempts. Every time he tries to help me, he just ends up making me feel worse. I don't even know why he was trying so hard. I guess my Dad was just trying to make up for all the time we lost; and maybe to attempt to close the distance betweens us. But when my father brought me a bowl of ground coffee beans and milk. . .I began to lose hope. I stayed silent to spare his feelings but I don't how much more of his health care I can take. And the more troubling things is. . .the day was just getting started. I had a lot more of my father 'special brand' of remedies to look forward to.

* * *

**Alius111: **Well, there it is. That little section with the whole romance novel was a little stab at over rated, hacky, love filled novels with characters so bitter sweet they rot the teeth right out of your skull. It was simple to write, I just had to write the corniest thing I could think of. Anyway, I should have the next chapter up maybe around next saturday.

Please Review.


	20. Caught Between A Rock And A Hard Place

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Caught Between A Rock And A Hard Place**

I'm going to be honest. There was a time when I wanted my father's love. There was a time I craved his affection. In my loneliness and my desperation to make contact with my family, I would have done anything—_given anything_ to be close to my family. But now, as I lie on the couch, coughing and moaning; I found my father's insufferable and annoying attempts to make me feel better, almost unbearable. Despite his eagerness the only thing he has succeeded at is making me feel worse. When I asked him for a hot water bottle he made the water too hot and it seared me forehead. And even though I didn't ask him to, he decided he would read me a story. Of course that lasted a grand total of fifteen seconds when he finally grew frustrated and tore the book in half. I guess he though the Great Gatsby was boring. Now the only thing left of it is a few chunks of shredded paper. But the worst was when he tried to sing me to sleep. Good God, I've never head anything so out of tune. I felt like I was suffocating.

"Here you go," my dad said, thrusting a bowl of piping hot soup into my hands.

I looked down at the soup questioningly. It wasn't like anything I had ever seen before. It had a dark brown broth with what looked like little bits of raisins floating in it. I felt my stomach lurch at the putrid stink, it smelt like burnt rubber. I kind of had an idea of what the soup was supposed to be, but my father wasn't the best cook. He has a very bad habit of just throwing in anything within reach when he makes soup; which is really weird considering he makes wonderful cakes. Still, he was trying his best and I didn't have the heart to let him down.

"What are these?" I asked indicating the tiny buds. "Raisins?"

My dad leaned over the bowl and shrugged. "Sure," he said. It's funny. I don't think he had a clue.

I smiled and lifted the bowl to my mouth as if to drink it, but the moment he had his back turned I quickly leaned over the armrest and dumped the soup into a nearby plant.

When my father turned around he stared amazed at the empty bowl; I smiled and rubbed my stomach. "Delicious," I said. "That was some. . .pretty good soup."

My dad smiled and took the bowl from my hands. "Mahalo." he said happily. "Want some more?"

"No," I said immediately. My father jumped at the alarm in my voice and looked disappointed at the empty bowl held in his paws.

"Okay." My father frowned, dropping his ears.

I watched, a little guilty, as he walked into the kitchen, his chin dropped down to his chest. I waited patiently for him to return; when he didn't I only felt worse. I don't know what my Dad was trying to do. He got it into his head that he had to make up for all the time we lost, and this whole 'taking care of me' ploy was just his way of. . .trying to reconnect. I appreciated the effort I really did—but he's killing me. Honestly I don't think he had the faintest idea what he was doing. I suppose when Jumba created him he didn't include a fraternal instinct. But he was trying so hard. If anything—just to make him feel better—I'd put up with the mistakes, the horrible soup, the singing, the reading, and anything he might throw my way. Who knows why I did it. I guess in some way I wanted to be close to him too.

When my Dad re-entered the living room, his ears were still dropped and he had a look of utter failure on his face. I felt my stomach clench with guilt. I didn't want him to think he failed. He was happy when he was doing something for me, and even happier when he thought he was helping. I almost got the feeling like he was trying to impress me; like he was trying to prove to me that he could be a good father. He seemed eager to prove himself, but was very fragile. I decided to indulge him.

"Dad," I asked. "Could you get me a glass of water? My throat really hurts." This wasn't a complete lie. My throat felt raw. A nice cold glass of water was just what I needed.

My father's ear shot up and he smiled, nodding fervently. "Oh, ya, ya, ya," He said.

Coughing slightly, I watched—confused—as my father ran out the front door. Perplexed, I scratched the back of my head. What was he doing? At that instant my father re-entered the house, a long green garden house trailing behind him. Jumping over the table, he stood beside the couch, holding the hoses' nozzle in front of my mouth.

I stared down at the hose and felt like smacking him across the head. "Dad," I said calmly. "They have water in the faucets."

My father shook his head and firmly said, "Naga, this water colder."

I guess that made sense, in his own sort of child-like logic. I shrugged and opened my lips, allowing my father to stick the nozzle into my mouth. Gently he squeezed the handle and a small amount of liquid squirted into my awaiting mouth. I drank, and had to admit it certainly was colder than anything that would of come from a tap. And even though the icy cold water bit and stabbed at the back of my swollen throat, I drank it without compaint. Just then my father squeezed the handle too hard, sending a jet of water shooting down the back of my throat. I knocked the hose away and leaned over the couch, coughing and gagging.

My dad gasped and began smacking me on the back. "I sorry, I sorry," He said frantically.

Wheezing, I clutched my throat and shook my head. "It's okay," I gasped.

My father bit down on his lip nervously, waiting for me to stop chocking. He looked so upset. I knew the last thing he wanted was to make me feel worse, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Maybe he was trying a little too hard. I asked him if he could get me another pillow—just to get rid of him. He was more than happy to oblige. The few moments of silence that bought me wasn't going to last long; already I could hear the elevator shaft rising to the dome. Soon he would be back, soon I would be staring into his hopeful black eyes, so eager and so ready to please me. I sighed, staring intently at the ceiling. I felt so sick. I sniffed, spitting a wad of phlegm into a napkin. I can't remember the last time I was this ill. I just wanted it to be over. I should of listened to 628. Too late now. My father returned to my side all too soon, a pillow held eagerly in his tiny blue paws; he was just as energetic and relentless as ever. I gratefully accepted the pillow and he asked me if I needed anything else, I said no. I just wanted to get some sleep.

628 came to visit me about and hour later. And for once I have to admit I was actually happy to see her.

"How are you feeling?" asked 628, placing her hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

I mumbled and knocked her hand away. "I'm fine," I said.

Not convinced, 628 lifted my head from my pillow, forcing me to drink from a small plastic cup filled with medicine. "There," she said. "That should sooth your throat."

I grimaced from the bitter taste of the medicine and dropped my head onto my pillow. "My Dad is trying to kill me," I said good heartedly.

628 smiled, placing the small plastic cup on the table next to the shredded remains of the Great Gatsby. "I know, but he's trying his best."

I moaned and buried my face in my pillow. "I don't think I can take much more of this."

I heard her chuckle and felt her hand slip into mine. "Do you want me to get you something to eat?" asked 628, "You look a little hungry."

I peeked out from under my pillow, staring at her hand then at her face. "Why are doing this?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" She inquired curiously.

"You know," I made a wild gesture with my hand, indicating the medicine and the plastic cup. "All of this. Why are you. . .taking care of me?"

628 looked a little shocked by my question, almost as if I should of already known the answer. "Because we're friends," she said with an air of motherly patience. "Friends help each other. I'd expect you to do the same for me."

Smiling, I let out a quiet rush of air and stared blankly at the wall.

"What's the matter?" 628 asked as I turned away from her.

"Nothing," I mumbled. "I'm just bored. I've been stuck on this couch all I day," I started forward and began coughing, quickly placing my hand over my mouth.

628 watched me sympathetically. When I was done coughing, her eyes flared orange and in the kitchen I heard the clinking of glass and the sound of a running faucet. A moment later a glass of lukewarm water floated into the living room, and into 628's waiting hand. Gently she pressed the glass to my lips, tilting it upwards as I drank.

"Thank you," I said, wiping the water from my mouth.

628 nodded her head in understanding. "Don't mention it." she replied, placing the now empty glass next to the bottle of medicine.

"Hey man, what's up?"

628 and I looked to the hallway as Aaron walked into the living room, holding a large cardboard box over his head, his first set of arms keeping a grip on the box while his second set held an open comic book.

I smiled and sent my brother a half hearted wave. "What's in the the box?" I asked.

Aaron set the box down onto the coffee table with a great huff and threw open the flaps. "Some more stuff from storage," He answered, diving into the box. I rolled my eyes and watched incredulously as Aaron began piling old video cassettes and photo albums onto the floor. Some of the tapes were cracked, and their film warped. The photo albums were a little worse for wear, but that didn't stop Aaron from blowing the dust from their covers and searching through each one.

"Cool look at this," said Aaron, indicating a small picture of myself holding a small furry creature held in my paws.

"Who's that?" 628 asked, leaning over to see the photo.

"That was my pet hamster Mr. Whiskers," I replied, bored with all of this reminiscing.

"Aw, he's so cute." 628 smiled, staring closer at the picture. "What happened to him?"

Aaron made a deep coughing noise in his throat and shook his head at 628. But I didn't have a problem answering.

"Elvis ate him," I told her flatly. "One day I had the gall to walk into our room without his permission so he snatched Mr. Whiskers from his cage and ate him whole like a piece of popcorn chicken." 628 made a disgusted face as I relayed the fate of my pet hamster. "I suppose it's ironic," I continued. "Elvis would eat a hamster, but won't go anywhere near a chicken."

628 frowned and continued flipping through the photo album. "There's hardly any pictures of you," She said after a few minutes of looking for photos of myself without results.

I spared the photo album a resentful glance and said, "That's because I didn't spend a lot of time with my family. But if you look closer at the photo of Aaron and Elvis, you'll see my foot sticking out from the bottom of the frame. Elvis pushed me to the ground just as the flash went off."

"Oh, I see," 628 spoke, looking down at the album for more pictures. "And who's this?" She asked, pointing down at a photo of the entire family.

Both Aaron and I stared silently at each other. 628 was asking about the blue experiment standing between Elvis and Aaron.

"That's our brother Presley," said Aaron. "He was killed a few years ago."

628's large black eyes, stared empathetically at Presley, feeling saddened by his wide, cheery smile. "How did he die?" She asked.

_'Where's Sssimon?' _

_'Out of my way Jookiba, I have no quarrel with you.'_

_'Ssstop running boy, your no ussse to me dead.'_

_'Ahh yesss, there's that wit of yoursss. Your a clever one.'_

_'I want DAD!' _

"He didn't die," I said sharply. "He was _murdered_."

Dropping her ears, 628 closed the book. "By who?" She asked.

Aaron and I growled angrily. "By a monster." I said, remembering vividly a pair of malicious, yellow eyes. Glancing at 628, I realized she look troubled. I wanted to say something, but what was there to say? We never discuss what happened to my brother here at the Pelekai household. We try to pretend like It never happened, but I could never forget—I was there. I could still see my brother's empty, black eyes staring up at me, and could feel the warmth of his blood as it soaked my fur. It was one of the most horrific experiences of my life. . .and I can never forget who was responsible—I can never forget his name. . .

"HEY!" Aaron yelled, trying to change the subject, he lifted something out of the box. "Look at this." He was holding up a small, black cassette with the words 'Simon's First word, and show" written across a tiny, white label.

At the sight of the tape, I groaned and smacked my head. "Where did you get that? I was sure, I threw that damn tape out." I lunged forward and tried to grab the cassette from his hands.

"Ya but it's good for a few laughs, so I fished it out of the trash." Aaron laughed, holding the tape just out of my reach. Before I could stop him, he was already across the living room and was pushing the tape into the VCR. A moment later I was watching, with growing embarrassment, a video of my baby self sitting in the middle of this same living room, with Lilo crouching next to me.

"Come on," Lilo said, egging me on. "Tell Stitch what you said to me."

My younger counterpart looked up at the camera man(my father) and opened his mouth, struggling to say a word. "M—M. . .Mito—Mitochondria." It was small and quiet but undeniable. I just spoke my first word.

Lilo cheered and some where else on the video Jumba cried triumphant.

Laughing, 628 turned to me and laughed louder. "Your first word was Mitochondria?"

Rolling my eyes, I nodded my head, arousing even more laughter from both Aaron and 628. "What?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I was very advanced at that age." Leaning forward, I snatched the remote off the table and shut off the T.V before the next part of the video could play. "I don't want to watch any more," I said annoyed.

"Wait," 628 cried. "What was on the rest of the video?"

"Simon in a talent show," Aaron replied before I could stop him. "It was in Washington."

Chortling, 628 placed her hand on my shoulder to brace herself. "You were in a talent show?" she asked, amazed. "What was your talent?"

Crossing my arms, I slouched in my seat. "I sang," I mumbled quietly. "And not just any song," I added when I saw 628 snicker. "I sang a very _challenging_ aria from Giuseppe Verdi's _Rigoletto_."

"And he won!" Aaron added.

"You can sing?" 628 asked doubtfully.

"Of course he can sing!" Jumba called from the kitchen. "Simon is having lovely singing voice. Is getting that from 624."

Embarrassed, I shut my eyes and hid my head under the covers. I hated this. I hated everyone knowing I could sing—and very well I might add. Everyone thought I was odd enough, I didn't need to add wood to the fire.

"So," said 628 merrily(I could tell she was just loving this). "You can sing, you can cook, and your intelligent. . .Simon, are you gay?"

I threw the blanket down, glaring threateningly at 628. "No I'm not gay," I snapped. "Isn't that being a little cynical? Elvis can sing as well, but he'd never admit to it."

"Okay, okay," 628 said defensively. "It's just that the signs are starting to pile up."

"You know, she has a point," Aaron said. "I don't think I've ever seen you with a date."

I looked at 628 and Aaron, a little hurt, and she frowned, knowing that joking time was over.

"Aaron," she said quietly, "I think that's enough."

The smile vanished from Aaron's face when he saw me roll over on my side, turning away from them.

"Oh. . .sorry man," He apologized. "We we're just kidding."

"Aaron," I said, facing him with a sombre expression on my face. "Would you like some soup?"

"Soup?" Asked Aaron. He looked a little confused.

I nodded and pointed into the kitchen. "Yes, there's a large pot of it on the stove."

Aaron looked into the kitchen, his ears erect, and licked his lips. "Who made it?" he asked.

"Nani," I replied, with a casual smile. "She made it for me this morning, but there was too much. In fact, I could barley finish one bowl. I had to dump the rest into that plant so I wouldn't hurt her feelings."

Without another word, Aaron bolted into the kitchen. I smiled and watched him run away, maliciously tapping my fingers together. I had a big grin across my face.

"Are you sure Nani made this?" Aaron called. "It looks a little funky."

I smiled and nodded, ignoring the curious glance 628 was sending my way. "Oh yes," I replied. It's quite delicious."

628 looked as if she was going to say something, but I silenced her and we both stared into the kitchen, listening intently. A moment later we heard a loud gagging and the unmistakable sound of a bowl shattering on the floor. At that instant, Aaron ran into the living room yelling, his tongue protruding from his mouth like a swollen red carp. He stopped in front of the couch, staring incredulously at 628 and I. Then we all cracked up and burst out laughing. Tears running down his face, Aaron laughed, holding his sides for dear life. I don't know why I was laughing too. I guess it was just one of those moments.

But then the laughter died, both Aaron and 628 had stopped to stare at the front door, as if expecting someone to walk through. Sitting up and perking my ears, I tried to see past them to get a look at the door, but they were blocking my view. Were they hearing something my ears couldn't? When the door opened, I wasn't all that surprised, but my curiosity immediately changed to hatred as I saw the last person I wanted to see walk into the house with Bonnie hanging on his arm.

Elvis stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted me among the group of faces staring at him.

Bonnie, looking a little confused, nudged him in the side and asked, "What's the problem babe?" She turned in our direction and waved. "Hey fellas," She said in her thick, Alabama accent.

"Bonnie, get me a drink," Elvis said angrily. When Bonnie didn't move he raised his hand as if to strike her, sending the bright green experiment running terrified into the kitchen. When he was sure she was busy fixing him a drink, Elvis growled at me, baring his fangs.

"What is he doing here?" He seethed, clenching his fists. If it wasn't for Aaron and 628, I knew he would of lunged and attacked me. I could practically see myself being ripped to shreds in his eyes, his blood lust and the raw hatred was terrifying—but I wasn't afraid of him.

"Simon is sick," 628 said, quickly stepping between us. "Your dad brought him here to be taken care of."

Elvis scoffed, but his hatred was temporarily forgotten when he stopped to look 628 up and down, a wide, confident smirk coming over his leering face.

"And what are you doing here?" asked Elvis. He smiled and put his arm around her. "Were you waiting for me?"

628, who looked annoyed at the violation of her personnel space, rolled her eyes. "No Elvis, " she said, "I came here to see Simon." Nudging him, she tried to jerk his arm of her shoulder, but he held tightly.

"How about you and me get together tonight," He proposed, gently running his hand up and down her waist. I don't know why, but I felt a spark of jealousy as he pulled her thin body against his.

"Ooh, sorry," 628 said bluntly. "But I'm. . .washing my hair tonight."

Elvis looked disappointed that 628 was not submitting to him, as other females probably have done so easily, but he was determined not to loose his cool. (Not that he had it in the first place.) Elvis seemed to have completely forgotten that Aaron and I were still in the room, and we could only watch with mild interest and growing repulsion, as he tried to woo 628.

"Oh come on," He said, running a claw along her chin as 628 tried to back away in disgust. "You know you want me. I've been a little anxious to finish what we started that night at your place."

628 raised an eyebrow. "But what about Bonnie?" She asked, inclining her head towards the kitchen.

Elvis scoffed and waved his hand, as if dismissing Bonnie. "Forget about her," said Elvis. "You know your still my number one girl." Grabbing the sides of 628's head, he stared deeply into her eyes and leaned in, attempting to kiss her.

Repulsed, 628 moved her head away from his and brought her fist back, using the leverage to punch him the stomach. "You pig!" She spat, shoving him a few feet. Fuming, She looked as if she was preparing to rain a few blows on him, when she suddenly broke off and stared into the kitchen, a blank, sympathetic expression on her face.

Wiping, the spit from his mouth, Elvis turned and faced the kitchen door. There Bonnie stood, a glass of juice held in her hand and a plate of toast in the other. Her face was blank but sad. She looked mortified to see her mate trying to woo another female. At that moment I truly felt sorry for Bonnie. She deserved better. The cup and plate fell from her paws, spilling the juice and toast all over the floor. My eyes went wide as I saw tears fill hers. I never saw Bonnie cry before, she was always so tough, and so hard, like a real street-wise gal from the wrong side of the tracks. It was unnatural to see her cry.

"Aw, look what you did!" Elvis yelled angrily, pointing to the spilt juice and the scattered toast. "Get up stairs!" He shouted. When Bonnie stayed rooted to the spot, still wearing that same, blank, hurt expression; Elvis advanced on her and grabbed her roughly by the scruff of the neck, lifted her up and practically tossed her into the hallway. There was a loud thump and a cry as she hit the wall. Elvis spared us an angry glance, as if daring us to say anything; before he stormed into the hall and dragged Bonnie onto the elevator and up to his room. From what I understand, Elvis and Bonnie mated that night, if he raped her or if it was with her consent, I do not know. But the next time I saw her, she looked beaten and terribly bruised. But for now, 628, Aaron and I sat and stood quietly in the living room, silent and shocked as we heard a loud banging coming from upstairs.

"That son of a bitch," 628 sneered as she wiped up the juice and picked up the pieces of toast. "Where does he get the nerve, coming on to me with Bonnie in the next room? That poor girls been through enough already." She growled and slammed her fists onto the floor. "That disgusting animal!" She spat.

"Ya, that's not cool, " Aaron agreed, looking up at the ceiling. "Is Jumba still in the kitchen?"

628 frowned and carried the juice soaked rags and toast into the kitchen to throw them into the trash bin. "Now he's not," She called. "He must of left before Elvis got here." Frustrated, she stormed into the living room. "Where is everybody!?"

"Uh, Nani and David are with their kid at the beach," Aaron replied. "Dad left to get something at the store, Lilo went with him. I have no clue where Pleakley and Jumba ran off to."

Still enraged from her confrontation with Elvis, 628 felt that she needed some time to cool off, so she decided to walk around outside to sort of clear her head. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer Simon," She said as she walked towards the door. "But I just really need to get away from here."

I nodded in understanding and assured her that it was alright. When she left it was just Aaron and me left alone in the living room. We tried to have a conversation but the moment had become too awkward. Soon he left too. I didn't mind. Still feeling rather ill, I enjoyed the time I had alone with myself. But it didn't last as long as I would have liked. About fifteen minutes after Aaron had left, Elvis came back downstairs, looking tired, sweaty, and rather satisfied. When Bonnie didn't come downstairs, I had a pretty good idea as to why. I growled and looked away in disgust when I noticed the smoking cigarette he had clutched between his sharp, black claws.

Blowing a large cloud of smoke into the air, he pinched the lit end of the cigarette between his fingers, extinguishing the tiny flame. "Oh your still here," He said as he spotted my lying on the couch. "I thought you would of left with _them_."

"You son of a bitch," I sneered.

Raising his eyebrows, Elvis bared his fangs. "What did you say?" He asked, dangerously.

"You heard me," I replied. "You are the most disgusting, loathsome thing I have ever met in my entire life. Taking advantage of her after she just lost her mate and kids. That's low even for you."

Elvis shrugged and re-lit his cigarette with a black Zippo lighter. "That just shows how well you know me." He smirked and jerked his head up towards the ceiling. "She's a real fighter," He said. "And it was good. Not that you'll ever know what mating with a girl is like." He added with a hint of laughter.

I growled and threw aside my blankets; a few moments ago, I would have been too weak to stand but my anger gave me the strength to ignore my sickness for the moment. "Is that so?" I said advancing on him. "And how long did you have to hold Bonnie down before she finally gave up and burst into tears?"

Elvis smirked and blew a cloud of smoke into my face. I coughed, waving my hand through the air as my eyes began to water. "You know, I remember when you used to be afraid of me," He chuckled and walked across the room, as I stood there, heaving in anger, my temper boiling. "I remember when you used to cry like a little **bitch** when I entered the room."

I growled and looked him straight in the eye. "That was a long time ago," I reassured him.

Amused, Elvis took a long drag of his cigarette and began circling around me, sprinkling the ashes at my feet. "Sure it was," He said. "A lot was different back then. That was before you went crazy and butchered half the island." I tried to ignore him but his words stabbed through me like scorching pieces of slate rock. "You should have seen Dad's face when they took you away," Elvis continued, still circling. "He looked so sad so. . ._hurt_ that his little Simon turned out to be a fucking psycho." Elvis blew another cloud of smoke into the air, continuing with his taunts. "You should have been there when I told him you tried to kill yourself by jumping off a cliff. I told him how guilty you felt for almost killing Lilo. And you know what? He believed every word."

"You won't get away with this!" I snapped. "Aaron knows, and I'm going to tell Dad everything."

Elvis stopped circling and started deeply into my eyes. A smile came over his face. "You know, I thought you'd say that," He said as he walked across the living room, crouching in front of the movie case. "A few days ago I was watching T.V—with the satellite Jumba installed we get over five million channels from all over the galaxy. Cool eh? Anyway, I was watching T.V, when I saw this," He reached into the back of the movie shelf and pulled out a black cassette tape. He smiled and dangled it through the air. "Of course after I saw this I had to record it. And I'm glad I did." Elvis climbed to his feet, still clutching the tape in his paws. "How did you say you escaped from prison?" He asked.

My eyes widened and I felt my blood run cold. "I-I didn't" I mumbled. "I was released."

Elvis smiled and popped the tape into the VCR. "Oh that's right," He said. "You were released. Well that's a little weird." He turned around and pressed play on the VCR.

I looked to the television, watching the blank screen with growing horror as a news report played.

"_Authorities are still on the look out for the escaped prisoner, Simon Pelekai," said a News Anchor, displaying a hologram of myself. "The prisoner escaped from Prison Asteroid K-37 not a few weeks ago, after a traumatic and epic hostage situation took place a the prison. He is to be considered armed and very dangerous. If you have any knowledge considering the whereabouts of Simon Pelekai, then we strongly urge you to contact the federation. . .The Grand Councilwomen has guaranteed—"_

With a satisfied smirk, Elvis shut off the VCR. "It would really suck if the Federation found out you were here," He said. "So, I don't think you'll be telling anyone anything. I think if you want to stay a secret, you'll keep your mouth shut." Walking next to me, Elvis placed his hands on my shoulders and whispered into my ear. "Tell anyone and not only will I tell the federation your here, I'll kill David and Nani's kid, and tell them it was you. And who do you think they'll believe, you, the guy who nearly killed his entire family? Or me, the guy who as far as they know has given them no reason not to trust him."

I could feel his grip tightening on my shoulders. I wanted to say something but I was at a loss for words. When I said nothing, Elvis smiled and patted me on the head.

"Good catching up with you little Brother," He moved past me, bumped into my shoulder, and looked as if he was going to walk into the hallway, but at the last minute he spun around, grabbed me by the neck, and hurled me across the room. I yelled and flew through the air, hitting the wall with a loud, resonating thud. I let out a pained cry and began coughing into my fist, the sickness finally taking its toll again.

Looking up, I saw Elvis standing over me. He reached down and dug his claws into my fur, forcing a dog-like yelp from my mouth. He roared and slammed me against the wall, his forearm pressed against my windpipe and his other hand hovering just above my stomach. I gasped and tried to wriggle myself free, but Elvis was too strong, and easily over powered me. Just then, my face became twisted in agony as Elvis grabbed my groin, squeezing it with his hard, vice-like grip.

"Now let me explain something to you," He said angrily. Once again I tried to escape but Elvis clenched the hand crushing my groin and twisted it. I recoiled against the wall, my face contorted in pain, tears streaming down my face. It hurt so much. "From now on your going to pretend like everything is fucking peachy, got it?" When I didn't answer he clenched his hand again and I yelped. "Got it?" Tears running down my face, I nodded. Elvis smiled. "Good. Now your going to leave and go back to 628's house and your going to stay there for the rest of the night." With another painful squeeze, I agreed in a short, pained gasp. "Good, then tomorrow your going to come over because Dad is playing poker with some of the guys. He's probably going to ask why you left, but your not going to tell anyone are you?" I shook my head and Elvis nodded. "That's very good Simon." Finally he let go of my groin and I fell to the floor, whimpering like a dog with my hands between my legs. Elvis looked down at me with a look of pure loathing one last time and began strolling across the living room. "I want you gone by the time I get back down here," he called as he rounded the corner into the hallway.

When he was finally gone, I remained lying on the floor, beaten and humiliated. Again Elvis had managed to get the better of me. Again I let Elvis bully me into submission, but in this case I didn't really have much of a choice. The colder side of me said to cut my losses and tell everyone, dismissing what Elvis might do. But the warmer side—the good side, the side that cared about my family told me to keep quiet for the sake of Nani and David's child. The situation reminded me of the old days when I had a secret but was unable to tell anyone. I felt so weak and helpless, every time I start to feel good about myself, Elvis is always there to remind me how weak and pathetic I am; and to remind me how I could never measure up to someone like him in terms of physical strength and cunning. But I'm smarter than him. Somehow I was going to outsmart him, so determined was I to beat him at his own game. For another few minutes I lie huddled on the floor, grinding my teeth in pain and in anger, wondering what to do.

XXXX

_I was running. It was that same night. Like Elvis said I left the house and had journeyed back to 628's place and had curled up on her couch. Now I was running._

_I looked over my shoulder and screamed as I saw the squirming mass moving towards me. A writhing, heaping deluge of rotting arms with the horrible experiment eating monster riding on top of them. Thousands of transparent clocks hung suspended in the air, constantly ticking. I plugged my ears with my hands, trying to drown out the maddening sound of the clocks. Behind me, buried deep within the core of the mass of arms, the most frightful apparition, the Black Experiment roared. The Flesh eating monster, roared in unison so their voices merged and became one, for the Black Experiment and the Flesh Eating Monster were one; one and the same. The same terrifying monster, created by mind, constantly fused and draped in the rotting arms of my victims._

_Screaming, I ran faster and the clocks ticked louder._

"_You're running out of time," The Grand Councilwomen said as she watched me run. "The clocks are getting louder—ticking faster. Your can't possibly run forever. **I will catch you.**"_

_There was a door ahead of me, a wide, square, transparent door. I recognized it immediately. It was the door to my cell. Yes! I had to get to my cell—in there I would be safe._

_As I approached, the unbreakable glass opened, as if beckoning me inside. Somewhere behind, the monster gave a vicious roar—it sounded closer. Again I yelled but it was drowned out by the constant ticking of the clocks. I jumped in terror as I felt a single, cold finger nail scrape the back of my head. I could cold little fingers running along my back, clenching and clawing, trying to get a hold of my fur. I could feel the monster's hot breath on the nape of my neck and could hear the dark, loathsome chuckle of the Black Experiment. _

_I ran into the safety of my cell, the door closed behind me, and I felt as if it had consumed me. Heart racing, I spun around and stared out through the glass. I only saw pitch darkness. The monster, the arms, the Black Experiment—they were all gone. For a moment—for one single instant—I breathed a sigh of relief and felt truly safe. That is. . .until I heard it._

"_Simon. . ."_

_I felt my blood turn to ice. I turned around and had to hold back a scream. I saw Presley, only, he wasn't how I remembered. His fur had become coarse and rough, stained and clotted with soil and blood. Thin layers of skin had peeled away after almost two years of decomposing underground, revealing dead muscle tissue and in some places, bone. The flesh on his right ear had completely rotted away, devoured and consumed by the maggots still squirming on the edges of his ears. His lips were gone, I could see past his receding gums and exposed teeth, and right into his mouth which hung open and loose like a broken door hinge. I didn't want to look at him but I had to. His eyes bored into mine, those empty, rotting eyes. He looked less like my brother and more like some horrible demon. I looked down and stared at the hole in his stomach. It's edges were caked with dried blood and dirt, inside instead of the other side of the cell, I could only see a hollow, black void. Staring into that darkness, I felt petrified. _

"_SIMON!"_

_I turned around to see my father standing on the other side of the cell door, banging his tiny blue fists against the unbreakable glass. "GET OUT OF THERE!" He yelled. My father shouted and threw his entire body against the door, trying to get me free. My eyes widened in terror when I saw the hulking mass of arms approaching from behind. I tried to warn him but my voice couldn't travel past the glass. Confused, he pushed his ear against the glass, trying to hear what I was trying to say. Frantically I pointed behind and he looked just as the rotting arms swarmed on him. My father screamed and it was terrible to hear. The arms savagely ripped into his flesh, spraying blood all over the empty, white floor. He tried to fight back—tried to live so he could save me—but they overpowered him. Bloodied, my father looked back at me through the glass as the arms ferociously ripped into his abdomen; and he smiled. Just then, the hulking arms of the Black Experiment cracked open the back of his skull and plunged into my father's head; two clawed hands burst from his eye sockets and then he was carried away, the only remainder of my father being the long, smear of blood splashed across the glass._

"_Simon. . ." _

_I turned around. Presley had moved across the cell and was now standing directly in front of me, close enough that I could smell the acrid stink of his rotting flesh._

"_I want to show you something," he said in a raspy, emotionless voice. I stood there, too terrified to move, as Presley placed his hands on my shoulder—they were so cold, so vivid! _

"_Come on Simon," Elvis said, watching me from a shadow eclipsed podium hanging above the cell. "Our brother wants to show you something—you can do it!"_

_Nodding, I dropped to my knees and stared, deeply into the hole in Presley's stomach. The void had been filled and was now brimming with life. Inside the hole I saw a vast blue sky, with cumulus clouds drifting through the air. A bright, warm light shined from the sky and washed over my face. I could feel the wind brushing over my skin. It was beautiful but horrifying. Inside, in the depths of the sky I heard a loud scream—like the wailing of an insane women. I tried to back away but Presley held me firmly in place; I couldn't get out. It was in that moment that they sky began to change: the pale blue became a crimson red; the light, fluffy clouds burst into flames and streaked across the air, setting the entire atmosphere ablaze. In the center of it all, waving its arms as if conducting the fire, was a tall, white experiment. It wasn't the Black Experiment—No. He didn't have this kind of power. I watched in mute horror as the very air itself seemed to be ripped apart by the strange experiment. Black light and molten lava swirled around it in a massive vortex, destroying and ripping the apart the very fabric of space and time. Just then the Experiment saw me staring at him from Presley's hole. He looked right at me and I wanted to scream but decided it wouldn't make any difference. Then, the ravaged sky collapsed and imploded in on itself, exploding in a brilliant flash of red and black. When the air radiating from the hole became so hot that it began to burn my flesh; I made an effort to pull away but Presley wouldn't let me. The void was now filled with a flaming sun, its long fiery fingers reached out for me. And before I was consumed by the intense heat, I saw the white experiment one last time, screaming in the very core of the sun. In my heart, I knew it was Experiment O. . ._

I screamed and awoke with a thin layer of sweat soaking my fur. Immediately I began thrash and swing my claws through the air. Something was grabbing hold of my wrists, trying to restrain me. Savagely I growled and tried to fight back—but it was too strong for me.

"It's okay, it's okay," A frantic voice said. "It's just me."

Terrified, I leaped forward and clung to the owner of the voice, eyes wide and nearly hysterically. I felt a pair of comforting arms wrap around me. Next to my ear, a very calm, soothing voice spoke and I felt my fear slowly start to ebb away.

"It's okay," said 628, holding me tightly in her arms. "It's just me."

Gathering my wits, I looked up, realizing who I was holding onto and felt ashamed. Quickly I pulled myself from her warm embrace and moved over to the other end of the sofa. I looked around. I was in 628's living room. It was dark—still night. To me the shadows looked real and that scared me. 628 sat quietly on the couch, a look of concern and worry coming over her face.

"Are you alright?" She asked, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Yes I'm fine," I said, still breathing heavily. "Just another nightmare."

628 frowned sadly. In the darkness of the living room I could barely see her, but to feel her hand on my shoulder was comforting enough. At least I knew she was there. "It sounded like a real bad one," she said.

I nodded and clutched my chest. I could feel my heart beat, it was erratic. "Yes. . It was. The worst one I've ever had."

"How often do you have these nightmares?" asked 628.

I sighed and looked her right in the eye. "Every time I fall asleep," I replied with an air of shame. I felt embarrassed that she should see me look so vulnerable and scared. She must be think I'm weak for letting myself be so frightened by a dream. But she didn't. Surprisingly, 628 seemed very understanding—almost sad.

"It's nothing," I reassured her. "It's nothing. . ."

Removing her hand from my shoulder, she rested them on her knees. When she spoke it was in a hushed, melancholy voice that I was not accustomed to hearing from her. "I. . .I hear you cry at night," She said quietly. I looked at her and felt. . .I don't know what I felt. But she had know, known all along. "I've heard you every night since you got here," She continued. "It makes me. . .sad that some one could be hurt so much that they cry every night in their sleep. I-I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but if you do then maybe, I might be able to understand what your going through. . .maybe I could even help you move past it." 628 looked into my eyes for the briefest of moments, then dropped her gaze.

Leaning forward, I placed my finger underneath her chin and lifted here eyes up to mine. Our eyes met, and there was a silence between us. I knew she wanted to talk, but for now, for this moment, there were no words. Outside the moon drifted out from behind the clouds and shined through the window, bathing the living room in moonlight. 628 smiled and nudged up against my side. I hesitated at first, but then, throwing caution to the wind, I put my arm around her shoulder and held her close. I don't know what this moment meant, and I don't think she did either. But for once, in my cautious, buttoned down life, I defied my very nature and didn't ask questions. Instead, I ran my hand up and 628's arm and stared out the window, sighing as we both gazed quietly, up at the moonlight.


	21. The Federation Approaches

**Alius111: **Ah, the next chapter of SE2 is finally here. Sorry it took so long. I was suffering through a very serious case of Writer's Block.

But now that I am past the twenty chapter mark, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed—even those who haven't. But I'd like to extend a special thank you to some of the veterans of the Simon's Experiments stories. They've been reviewing since the beginning and if it wasn't for them, I would have never gotten this far. Thank you all.

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty One**

**The Federation Approaches**

Elvis, I hated him so much and yet he was all I could think about. Walking endlessly around the vault, I stared up at the ceiling, my face hideously glared by the fluorescent light, wondering what was to be done about my brother. I knew I couldn't force inspiration to hit, but when it finally did it would strike like lightening, sending a blinding flash of epiphany through the back of my eyes. If there was a reasonable solution to my problem, I would have to wait for it. Otherwise anything I would come up with would seem flaccid and boring in comparison to **true** inspiration. I raked my brain but still nothing came to me. Elvis was a very cunning, manipulative person but he has his weaknesses: his vanity, his love for Father, his pride, his overconfidence, his ignorance. . .the list is endless. But for all of is planning, for all of his scheming; he failed to understand my resolve and determination to see him die. In my head I could see myself standing over him with a smoking plasma blaster in my hand. But it would take a stroke of genius and a certain crafty cunning of my own to bring my vision into reality. There was a gaping hole in his plan and it was going to consume him. . .I just haven't found it yet.

If I had to guess, the new plan would be the old plan. I would just kill him. Simple as that. Forget all the temerarious plots and flimflams. I would just kill him and that would be the end of it all. I could picture myself stationed in front of the kitchen table, Elvis by my side and a kitchen knife nearby. My hand would twitch and I would grab the knife and then. . .one quick thrust and the deed would be done. A rattled, tragic moan from Elvis' throat maybe? A quick splash of blood perhaps? Who knows. Of course I would have to justify this to my family. The most obvious reason practically jumped out from the shelf at me: Fibber, the helpful and reliable Experiment 032. But I could only use him after Elvis was dead—not before. That way I would prevent Elvis from taking any other lives with him. If I exposed his crimes after he was dead; then there would be no one to notify the Federation of my presence on Earth. Then, once he was dead, I could tell my father everything—Fibber would only confirm what I was telling him and then maybe everything would finally be alright.

But. . .I was fooling myself. I saw the flaw in my plan as clear as day—as clear as I saw the lifeless, bald face of my clone staring blankly at me from inside his massive glass cylinder. My father would never except what I planned to do. If it came down to it he would defend Elvis with his life—no matter what he had done. He would do the same for me or any of his children. I would expect nothing less. The drive to protect one's young is very potent in my species. We may be creatures of higher intelligence and abilities but we are still animals. Unlike humans our instincts haven't been muddled and quelled by millions of years of evolution. Our instincts drive us. When we are injured we lick our wounds if we can. When we mate we do it to reproduce. True, we have a higher level of thinking that allows us to mate solely for the purpose of pleasure, but that is when mating crosses the line to sex. We are creatures of emotions, all desire and hatred, joy, love, anger, sorrow, and survival. But we are gifted with an intellect and consciousness that allows us to think rationally and discern from logical thought and a primal drive. And therefore, we can betray our instincts. For instance when Elvis mated with Bonnie it wasn't to produce offspring—it was because it felt good. That is a blatant betrayal of our more animal side. When we roar and growl, when we bite and fight with our claws—that is the animal in us breaking loose. True enough living on Earth has made my species more docile and quelled our bloodthirsty nature, but deep down none of us will ever forget what we truly are. . .monsters created to destroy.

And this meant if I was going to kill Elvis and finally have my retribution; I would have to make sure my father didn't get in the way. My dad would defend Elvis. . .so I had no choice. He would have to be taken care of. I could never kill my own father. Despite what some believe I love him very much. He is my dad, the male who's loins I sprang from. He and my mother gave me life. So. . .what to do? In there lied a dilemma, snarling and stalking in a dark cave waiting to pounce with a savage cunning. It would crush my dad when he realized another one of his sons were murdered—and by his youngest no less. So, how do I take care of this? The situation must be handled delicately and with the utmost of care. As I've said before he would never accept the murder of his older son. If only he knew how much he deserved it.

The answer came to me suddenly as I walked between the aisles of shelves and test tubes. In its simplicity it was almost perfect. There was no possible way for me to remain on Earth. Eventually I would have to leave. With the federation constantly tailing me, I would be condemned to live constantly on the run, never having a moments peace until the day I die. I would forever live a life of crime to keep myself out of the iron clutches of the Grand Councilwomen. Once I left, I could never come back; so killing Elvis and then running like a bat out of hell seemed simple enough in spite of a few complications, but something was holding me back. . .and that something took form in the shape of a fiery female experiment with lustrous black eyes and delicate beige fur. 628. My own personal femme fatale. The kibosh to my master plan.

After that night I was terrorized by nightmares and visions of apocalyptic horrors; something had changed between 628 and I. I believe we were more open to each other that night than we ever have been with any one else. We saw that part of each other we keep hidden from every one else—those secret areas of our minds that we escape to when we can't stand the harshness of the world. She saw my fear and the reality of my troubles, and I saw her terror of being weak and the uncertainty buried deep inside her. I'm not saying that we fell in love or that we made hot, passionate love right there on her leather couch—no, nowhere near anything like that. I don't have romantic feelings for 628 nor she for I, but our friendship was certainly stronger. We moved back and time and replaced our awkward meeting with a solid foundation of trust and fondness. Of course we were still arguing. . .a lot, and were constantly taking cracks at each other. But I think in some way. . .we enjoyed it. I felt kind of fond of her now. Like a wart on your arm you've grown accustomed to and may even care about. Our personalities still clashed and there was still a small smidgen of hatred and dislike between us, but I don't think we could ever get rid of that. After all, no relationship—friendship or otherwise—is perfect.

Coming to a halt in front of a dismantled plasma cannon, I stopped and stared at it, my calculating mind racing as I attempted to place its familiarity. I recalled it's long, black casing, its sinister handle curved so it almost resembled a scythe; the jagged red line that ran along it's side like a streak of fresh blood; the butt of the weapon which was round and notched like a gear. The cannon was thin and sleek, it looked deadly and held an air of certain death. Of course, how could I forget? This was the very same plasma cannon Acervus used to kill my brother—the weapon specially designed to kill indestructible experiments by ripping them apart at the subatomic level—the only one of its kind. . .a prototype if you will. This gun took my brother's life and while in my hands, the lives of a hundred innocent people. When held in my claws this blaster was almost as deadly as it were when it was held by Acervus.

I reached out and ran my hand along its cold, alloy casing. "Acervus," I mumbled. Even now saying his name left a disgusting taste in my mouth. I could still see his piercing yellow eyes staring down at me and could hear the rattle of his tail as he stalked me through the jungle. Forever he would haunt me. He was dead—I know because I killed him—but still, he hadn't left this world without leaving his own mark in my life—a mark written in my brother's blood. Presley's frantic, fearful eyes and his mournful crying as he yelled for our father was another thing that would haunt me for the rest of my days. As I sleep I can still hear his screams echoing in the back of my mind. Even in death he taunts me. I thought back to Acervus and the day Presley died. So long I had avoided it, but now I was ready to relive it, and finally ready to face it.

_Some time ago. . ._

_Gasping I ran to his side. He was practically swimming in his own blood. When I knelt down beside him my knees became drenched in the warm pink liquid. His eyes were closed, but I could see them twitching underneath the lids._

"_Aaron." I said, shaking him by the shoulders._

_Slowly he opened his eyes. "I'm cold," he stammered._

"_Wait here I'll go get help" I went to get up but Aaron grabbed my hand. His skin was ice cold. I knew going for help wouldn't do any good. He was as good as dead._

"_Please don't leave me I-I don't want to be alone." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. Tears began leaking down his face. "I'm so scared Simon please don't leave me," he pleaded._

"_I'm not going anywhere," I said. I didn't know what to do. I tried to comfort him in anyway I could. I yelled for help but no one heard me. Even if they did they wouldn't get here in time. Blood started leaking out the corner of Aaron's mouth. He coughed and grasped my hand for dear life._

"_I'm sorry," Aaron sobbed. He began coughing, spraying blood on my face. "I'm sorry for everything," he cried. By now his voice was more of a gurgling sound. Each word he spoke sprayed blood out of his mouth. I was shocked to feel tears running down my face._

"_Don't apologize," I said wiping the tears from my eyes. "You're going to be just fine."_

"_I want dad!" He yelled. He was sobbing now. He kept calling for our Father._

"_He's coming" I said, but I knew he wasn't. I was just saying that to make Aaron feel better. Just then a loud gurgling noise sounded from the back of his throat. His already weak grip loosened and his hand dropped to the ground. . ._

I sniffed and closed my eyes tightly as I felt a wetness build up behind my eye lids. I smiled and remembered how I had mistook Presley for Aaron. . .I never could tell them apart. That's almost funny now. I recalled how Aaron and Presley would hold me down while Elvis pummeled me mercilessly. I held no ill will towards my late brother; I had already made my peace with him. I think his life was more than he should of paid for the years he spent tormenting me. I had forgiven Aaron as well. He had made the first step, he had held out his hand and I accepted it. From then on we forged a friendship and found we had a few things in common—they weren't many but at least it was something.

I sighed and moved away from the plasma cannon, heading steadily towards the hidden entrance to the vault. For all of the forgiveness I gave to Aaron and Presley, two lonely birds that never learned to fly without a leader; I couldn't forgive Elvis. I feel petty and small admitting it but. . .like him I was consumed by hatred and had a lust for his blood and sweet, sweet vengeance. Funny, I suppose you could almost call it justice. After all when I finally did kill him I would only be giving him what he deserved. But how to do it? Choosing how to kill another person must be taken under consideration with the greatest attention. It's like painting a portrait: you must be sure of every brush stroke and can never take one back. Could I shoot him? No. Poison him? No, that's not physical enough to satisfy my hunger. I wanted to do it with my bare hands, but for that I would need to get him in a relaxed state—I needed him to trust me. Impossible of course, around me he would always be on his guard and could easily overpower me—even kill me if he wanted to. So, how do I get him to relaxed and vulnerable enough so I can kill him? When is a male most vulnerable? I asked myself. The answer came quickly. When he is about to mate. Huh, that's interesting. And who would Elvis like to mate with more than anyone? Again the answer came to me immediately, 628. From then on the pieces fell into place like the links of a chain connecting together. It was so simple. My plan would be his plan. I would disguise myself as 628 and get him to bring his guard down. And when I believe he is at his most vulnerable and helpless; I will strike like a snake strikes his prey and I will end him once and for all. . .it's perfect.

I spent the rest of my day working on my ship—which Jumba had helped me in transporting it to the lab in secret, and only an hour of banging it with a wrench I discovered that it had a little more bugs in it than I originally thought. The navigation system had to be replaced, the forward thrusters had been burnt out; the on-board computer was shot; and those plasma cannons attached to the wings—the cannons I had described as 'formidable' were nothing more than two hollow, metal casings. They were false. Upon further investigation I found traces of a tobacco-like plant in one of the casing—a weed that just so happens to be illegal in the Federation. I suspected my ship once belonged to a smuggler. He would hide the plant in the gun casing and then would run them from planet to planet. It was ingenious. No one would ever bother him because the cannons—shams that they were—looked so lethal. But as pretty as the casings were, I wanted real guns on my ship. So, those had to be installed as well—along with a new paint job and the removal of that awful bumper sticker. Of course my work would have proceeded faster if 628 wasn't hovering over my head the whole time, filling the air with her inane questions.

"Why are you throwing this out?" She asked with her head in the trash bin.

"Huh?" Distracted by her question, my hand slipped and I slit my finger on a jagged piece of metal. I cursed and shoved my bleeding, grease covered finger into my mouth. "What did you say?" I asked, practically shouting at her.

"I said, why are you throwing out this bumper sticker? 'If you can read this then I'm probably up your ass.' that's cute," 628 said, smiling.

Picking up my wrench I began banging away at a loose gasket. "No it is not _cu_te," I said loudly, "It's moronic. It's just a small step down from those asinine stickers that say 'I'm not a complete idiot, some part are missing.' If I want to be like every redneck on this planet then I'll buy a very large truck and purchase a hat that says 'I heart my rig.' But until then, make yourself useful and hand me those power cells."

I waited for a moment, laying back on a dolly, staring up at the underbelly of the ship. I had the Valkyrie hoisted up on a hydraulic lift and I lay under it, my hands moving around the inside of an opening in the hull. In my haste I turned the wrong bolt with my wrench and a large amount of black thruster coolant began pouring on my face.

"Where the hell are those power cells!?" I yelled, quickly placing a tin basin underneath the leak.

"Here," 628 exclaimed, leaning under the ship to hand me a couple of large, battery-like vessels.

"It's about time," I said, snatching them from her hands. "I said you could stay down here if you were going to help. But if you're not going to be useful then go back upstairs to the house." I looked up back into the opening and began installing the new power cells, leaving 628 to sulk in my chair.

"What is a Valkyrie anyway?" She asked after a brief five minute period of silence.

Sighing, I pushed the dolly and rolled myself out from underneath the ship. "A Valkyrie," I said as I dropped my wrench and climbed to my feet. "Is a spirit in Norse Mythology. They were handmaidens who escorted the souls of fallen heroes to Valhalla."

"Uh huh," 628 said, clicking her tongue. "So why are you calling your ship "The Valkyrie?" What was that? Did she sound amused. "Correct me if I'm wrong but you don't look like a fallen viking warrior," She said skeptically.

Leaning down, I began collected scrap pieces of metal that were to be recycled. "It's supposed to be symbolic 628," I said as I piled the scrap into the trash bin. Stopping, I looked myself up and down and frowned. I was covered from head to toe in grease. My fur was completely ruffled and caked with oil and dirt. I grinned and began rubbing the oil into my hands. "Take it from me 628," I said, "There's nothing more manly than working with your hands and fixing up an intergalactic spacecraft. . .and getting completely filthy in the process."

628 smirked and hopped down from my chair, a mischievous glint flaring in her eyes. "I didn't know you were so handy," She said, amused.

I scoffed and began packing up my tools. "Of course I am. I love working on spacecrafts and cars." I smiled to myself, "I probably get that from my father."

"Yes you're absolutely right," She said, scanning the ship with a calculating stare. "You're very good with your hands. . .and this certainly is a **big**, **powerfu**l machine."

I caught wind of her whimsical tone and knew she was up to no good. "What are you implying?" I asked suspiciously.

628 raised her hands defensively. "Nothing, nothing," She replied. "I'm just saying that males seem to just love working with **Big** machines," She said 'big' in a deep baritone voice. "Almost as if they're compensating for something."

I rolled my eyes and walked towards my computer. "Why does everything with you females have to start at the crotch?" I asked as I began typing on the massive keyboard, my greasy claws leaving smudges and unsightly blotches on the keys. "A guy gets a machine and immediately he's compensating for something. Can't it be that he just enjoys mechanics? You realize this is how Sigmund Freud's 'Penis Envy' theory was established."

628 tapped the bottom of her chin and nodded. "Yes I suppose. After all, you wouldn't need to compensate for anything" She playfully nudged me with her elbow. "I saw you getting out of the shower remember."

I grumbled, typing faster as I tried with every ounce of my being to ignore her. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to get me upset by bringing up an embarrassing moment. But I wasn't going to take her bait. I wasn't going to give in and fall into her little Venus-fly-trap.

"I know what you're doing," I said with an air of not caring. "You're trying to get me upset because you are bored, and you want me to blow up at you so at least you will have something to do. But it's not going to work." I pounded away on the keys and ignored 628 as she giggled at me behind my back. She was really starting to irritate me, and she knew it too. "Every comment you hurl at me floats over my head like a cumulus cloud."

628 smiled and shook her head. "Oh cumulus clouds," She said bracing her hands in front of her heart. "Tell me more Mr. Science."

"Alright now you're being cynical," I shot back.

_'Dammit!" _My mind yelled. _'Don't let her get to you old man. She's just wants to leave so we can go to Lilo's.' _It's true, for the last hour 628 had been hounding me to go to Lilo's with her for supper and to see the whole family. "A chance to spend quality time with your family," She called it. I told her I was too busy and that there was nothing stopping her from going, but she insisted that I come, and no matter how many times I said no, she wouldn't leave me alone. Now she was resorting to psychological warfare—but the ball is in her court now and I can be a stone, immovable and unrelenting. I didn't want to go and she can't make me.

"Listen you maniacal little harpy," I snapped as she continued to badger me. "I am not going with you to Lilo's and there's nothing you can say or do that will change my mind."

628 raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "Oh really?" She said as if accepting a challenge. Just then she smiled at me and began running her hand slowly up and down my arm. I rolled my eyes and stared up at the computer screen, ignoring 628 as she placed her hands sensually on my shoulders. "Oh I want you so bad Simon," she whispered into my ear. "Right here—right now on this ridiculously large keyboard." Sighing with exaggerated, melodramatic passion she flipped over and flung herself onto the keyboard so her back was against my desk and her head was craning through the air. "Take me now you. . .you," She paused to think an of an appropriate term. "You science guy," She concluded with a throaty sigh.

I stopped typing for a moment to applaud her. "A brilliant performance 628," I said. "But I'm afraid the fact still remains that I am staying here." I frowned at her and moved back to my work. Of course I knew she had been kidding. After my time spent with her, I've come to the startling realization that 628 has a very strange and wicked sense of humor. And Now that we are what society would call "close friends," I suppose the more mature subjects like sex and past relationships are now open for discussion. Of course my track sheet runs as blank as a new piece of paper; I, never having had a previous relationship with a female, have no stories to share. But what about 628? As far as I could tell, the only relationship she ever had had been with my brother, Elvis. And as I already knew, it had ended rather badly. The thought of 628 clinging to some males arm sent a spark of jealously surging through me. What was this? Why was I suddenly feeling so protective of her? I shrugged and blamed it on our friendship. I stopped typing when I realized 628 was still talking.

"Oh come on," 628 whined as she hopped down from my desk. "I can't go there by myself I'll look like a _big loser_."

I scoffed. "Well after that little show I think you're already running that risk," I told her.

"You have to come," She retorted. "I'm a tiny little female. I can't walk there by myself, what if I'm. . .what was that word you used?** Sodomized**. How would you feel then?"

_'Great, now she's trying to guilt me,' _I thought. '_A classic female technique used when they try to get what they want.'_

"628," I turned to her and placed by hands firmly on her shoulders. "I don't want to eat. My Dad is having a poker match with some of his buddies. I'll come over then. So drop it. Besides," I added when I saw how disappointed she looked. "Look at me, I'm filthy. By the time I'm done showering dinner will be over."

Nodding her head in agreement, 628 sighed. "Oh alright," she said, walking towards the elevator, her head downcast. "You're right of course." Funny, she almost sounded annoyed. I was always proving her wrong and dismissing her wild claims with my rock hard logic, and a state of mind so reasonable it was impossible to disagree. . .and she absolutely hated it.

I smiled and shook my head, quickly fallowing her onto the elevator as it ascended to the upper level.

As the platform came to a stop, 628 opened the bathroom door with an orange flare of her eyes and continued into the kitchen.

"Make sure you mop up your fur when you're done your shower," She turned and fixed me with her strongest 'don't disobey me' look. "Last time I went to take a bath the floor was covered with chunks of soggy hair."

"I can't help it," I said, walking into the bathroom. "I'm shedding. The warm climate is making my fur fall out."

628 was quick to respond. "Ya well you're shedding all over my bathroom. It's incredible I've seen dogs shed less than you."

I shrugged—even though she couldn't see me—and grabbed a towel from the towel rack, my filthy paws befouling its fluffy, white material. "It should stop in a few days when my new coat grows in. Now nagging me."

As soon as 628 left, leaving a series of shouts and muttered curses behind her, I jumped into the shower and, taking special care that all of my loose hair went down the drain, I turned the knob and lifted my head as warm water poured down my body. In the quiet I soon found my mind wandering—as it usually does when I am showering. I thought back to this morning. I had been sitting in front of the piano, playing Bach's _Goldberg Variations_—not perfectly but well enough. It was a fitting overture to such a calm, quiet moment. 628 had been resting on the couch, a cup of tea in one hand and another one of those horrible Romance novels in the other. I smiled to myself and began to lather the soap through my fur. The grease was hard to wash out, but with a little elbow grease of my own, I would be able to rinse it out. 628 had looked over at me, staring curiously over the rim of her book, her head bobbing slightly back and forth in tune with the music I played.

"I love that song," she had said, closing her eyes. "It's so soothing." 628 gently set her cup down on the coffee table and lost herself in the notes.

Staring up into space, my face had gone blank as I too closed my eyes. "Yes it is," I mumbled quietly. My fingers continued to hit the ivory keys. I smiled and continued playing, my heart pounding as I heard 628 humming along with the piano. It was satisfying knowing she had enjoyed the music I was making.

I let out a sharp sigh through my nose and dropped the bar of soap. I was clean enough. As I Stepped out of the shower, drying myself off like a dog, I caught sight of my reflection in the long mirror bolted to the back of the bathroom door. It suddenly became clear to me how much weight I had gained. Surprisingly enough—I looked _healthy_ again! My body had begun to fill out shortly after I had arrived on Kauai. It hadn't taken long for me to gain a little weight—but I had never even noticed. My face no longer had that sunken look to it, my fur had gone from a dull, coarse look to a very bright sheen and a rich fullness. I actually looked like my father again. . .like my old self. I smiled at my reflection, satisfied, and stepped out of the bathroom. I made sure none of my fur had shed onto the floor before I shut out the light.

Some time later, as I sat comfortably on the couch reading a medical journal on neurological diseases, a cup of strong black coffee held in my hand; I looked up from my book, staring at the window. The door flew open and 628 stepped inside, smiling and looking very well fed. To me she looked like a dog that was thrown that extra bone at mealtime. She acknowledge me with a curt—but friendly nod of her head and sat down on her end of the couch. After a few weeks of living here we've sort of established that the right side of the couch is mine and the left side is hers; no one ever sits on the side of the couch that's not theirs, and even now, as 628 stared at me out the corner of her eye, the rule was not broken.

"You missed a good meal," She said, using her mind to brew herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. I was faintly aware of the sound of the cupboards opening and closing, and the clink and clank of a spoon hitting the inside of a cup as it stirred, with no one to stir it.

I nodded, not caring. "Yes, I know," I took a sip of my coffee, cringed from the bitter taste and swallowed.

628 peeked into my cup and frowned in disgust. "That's how you drink your coffee?" She asked.

I furrowed my brow at her and took another sip, again cringing from the bitterness—which did not go unnoticed by 628—who smiled at my discomfort.

"Yes," I said drinking from the cup. "Black with two sugars. It can be a real kick start in the morning when you need it. This is how I've always had my coffee. How do you drink yours?"

628 thought it over before answering. "Three sugars with cream and just a dash of cinnamon," She answered.

I raised my eyebrows and turned back to my book.

"What?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders.

I shook my head and showed her my open palms. "Nothing, nothing."

628 rolled her eyes and opened her hand as a cup of steaming hot coffee—probably three sugars with cream and just a dash of cinnamon—flew into the living room and into her waiting hands. She leaned forward and gently blew the steam away before taking a careful sip. I smirked and watched her drink over the top of my book.

"Any good?" I asked.

She nodded, wiping away a few drops that had spilled onto her fur. "Very. . .What are you reading?" She asked bobbing her chin at the book held tightly in my paws. "Anything I might like?"

I shook my head. "No, not unless you want to read about Subacute sclerosing panencephalitis."

628 stuck out her tongue in disgust as if the subject of my book left a sour taste in her mouth. Eyes glowing, she had a book of her own fly from her shelf and she too began reading. After that our conversation dried up—both of us completely absorbed by the world created by the authors. That was one thing I detested about our friendship. As entertaining as our little chats were they were quick to dry up and constantly succumbing to sudden, abrupt endings. It was very uncomfortable.

An hour later, both of our books devoured, 628 and I set out for the house. When we arrived we were greeted warmly by the family—none as warmly as 628 was greeted by Elvis the moment he heard her walk through the door. I found my brother's advances irritating and annoying. For some reason I felt a surge of vengeful jealousy every time Elvis touched 628. It was probably just my natural instincts causing me to be territorial. But still, every time her groped her—despite 628's resistance—I felt like ripping his throat out with my bare hands.

"Simon!"

I looked away from Elvis and barely had time to gasp in surprise before my Dad jumped out of the kitchen and embraced me in a bone crushing hug.

At his affection, I gritted my teeth—in spite of the pain in my back—and forced a coy smile on my face. "It's good to see you to Dad," I managed to say, the word 'dad' almost being shouted as he squeezed me extra hard.

My Dad gave me that stupid grin of his and moved me into the kitchen so fast I almost felt my feet leave the floor. 628 was left behind in the living room, looking very much like the Captain from Moby Dick fighting off the Great White Whale as she skillfully dodged Elvis' advances. Funny, I couldn't recall the captain's name. In my head I heard Sherman or Abraham. Strange, usually I remember everything.

Aaron was the first one to notice me when I entered the kitchen wearing my Father's arm like a fury blue boa, and I was grateful for it. He was seated around the kitchen table—which had been moved to the center of the room—sitting in between an very bulky purple experiment and a short yellow one with electric blue eyes. My father proudly announced my presence to his poker buddies who regarded me with curt nods and quick glances. Obviously they were to absorbed in their game, their cards held so tightly in their hands, they were bending. I gave the table a quick sweep with my eyes. There was a total of seven experiments seated at the table, all male, and all with smocking cigars clutched between their flat white teeth. Kixx, Sparky, Yang, Richter, my Dad, Aaron, and Elvis—who had recently joined the party—were all there.

As my Dad rejoined the poker game, taking his seat, quickly snatching his face down cards and placing a transparent green visor on his head; I was reminded of that funny painting of the dogs playing poker. Each of them were smoking cigars like chimneys and drinking some good old Hawaiian beer like drunken sailors on leave. It's a good thing none of them could drive. My father was the first to throw down a new bet, glaring confidently underneath his green visor with his best poker face. Elvis was the first to retaliate by bravely raising the wager while the others folded. Over the next couple minutes my brother called and suffered a humiliating defeat when my father smugly dropped a full house onto the table. My brother groaned and covered his face with his hands. My Dad laughed triumphantly, pulling all of Elvis' blue, red and white chips over to his side.

"You lose Son," My dad said taking a swig of beer.

Elvis dismissively shrugged his shoulders and threw his cards down. He smirked, and with eyebrows raised he said, "This time. But nights still young."

My Dad grabbed a handful of barbecue chips from a bowl and chomped down on them, the succeeding chewing sounding like splintering wood.

"Alright that's enough from me," Aaron announced, dropping his cards. "I'm broke and," He glanced at the clock. "I've got a date."

My Dad nodded and took a long drag of his cigar while counting his chips. "Okay. . . .Simon. Come play for your brother."

"Huh?" I looked up from my secluded spot in the corner of the kitchen. My father's short furry arm was gesturing to Aaron's now vacated chair. I couldn't believe it. He wanted me to play. I hesitated at first under the cold stare of the other experiments—including my brother—I eventually found myself shrugging past Sparky and clambering into a seat, stuck between a living current of electricity and a wall of purple muscle.

"You wanna deal?" My Dad asked, sliding the deck of cards across the table.

I lifted my hand and snatched the deck before it had a chance to slide over the edge of the table. I lifted the cards in my paw, staring idly at the ace of spades as it stared up at me, when Elvis said:

"Why do you want him to play?" My Father gave him a sharp look, but it was ultimately ignored. "He probably doesn't even know how to."

My Father smacked his forehead, his fantasy of spending a night with the guys and his sons thrown to the wind, and was about to speak when I interrupted.

"You're right Elvis," I said as I shuffled the deck of cards at an amazing speed. "How could I pretend to know how to play," I flicked the cards into the air where they flew in a graceful arc and landed squarely in my open palm. "When Jumba and I used to play _every night _for two years." The other males watched, eyes wide and mouths open, as I sent the cards dancing through the air one last time before I deal them out quick as a flash. I picked my selected cards and glared over them at Elvis. "Aces are high," I said rolling a red chip under my finger.

Elvis lifted his cards in front of his eyes and his ears perked—_his tell!—_looked around the table at the other males, then at me, and said quite clearly, "Alright, the game is good old fashioned poker."

As bets were called my father offered me a beer, even went as far as pulling of the cap and holding in front of my face.

I looked away from my cards, my eyes traveled down the bottles long neck to the carbonated liquid within. The bottle was sweating, label nearly peeled off from spending so much time in the cooler. How do I break it to him that I don't drink?

"Uh, no thanks," I said pushing the beer away. "I don't really drink." Well, that worked out nicely.

The other males looked up from their hands.

My Dad chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders at Kixx who was giving me a scrutinizing stare. "Have a beer Simon," He wiggled the bottle and tried to force it into my hand. I couldn't help but notice the smug look on Elvis' face as he chose the moment to stifle a cough that sounded suspiciously like "_Pussy_."

I pulled away from the beer. "No thank you. I don't drink beer. But," I added with my finger raised. "I do have a bottle Chateau Pètrus Bordeaux. It's a little sophisticated for a poker game but it has a nice bouquet and a wonderful finish."

My father groaned and dropped his head onto the table.

"Sure," Elvis said, the corner of his mouth smirking like he had a fish hook stuck in it. "How about after that we all go to the _Yarn Barn_ and pick out floral patterns." He nodded his head at me. "You might want to check that wine cellar of yours for some balls while you're at it."

Kixx, Sparky, , Yang and Richter burst out laughing and my Dad shrank a few inches in his chair.

I glowered at Elvis. I wanted to say something clever—a witty comeback—something biting that would really hit him below the belt. A snappy phrase befitting such a boorish crowd. . .but I drew a blank. I was forced to grudgingly pass by his insults and continue playing. Staring over at my father, I felt regret that I had embarrassed him. But I couldn't help if it I wasn't a crude and impolite as these oafish knuckle-dragger's. Just watching Kixx wolf down those pretzels were enough to make me sick.

I coughed lightly. The air was thick with cigar smoke. It billowed overhead, collecting in a dank cloud over the table. It was nowhere near as unpleasant as being in a airtight space with Fletcher and his black Sticks,and I didn't really want to embarrass my Dad by commenting on the smoke, so I kept my trap shut.

"Hi boys," 628 said strolling into the kitchen. I looked up from my cards. I had forgotten she was here. Had she been listening to us? If she had . . . then she must of heard what Elvis had said about me, I realized. At that thought I felt pretty small and a little emasculated. In this table of muscles and super strength, I wasn't exactly the _shinning_ example of a male specimen. 628 seemed to sense this because she looked at me sympathetically but with that mischievous little spark in her eye that I liked so much.

At the sight of the female, some of the other guys whistled and let out dog-like howls. 628 smiled slyly and took them as compliments as she neared the table, her hips rocking slightly. It was strange, an attractive female like herself walking into a room full of raging testosterone. It was like a virgin willing tying _herself_ to the stake and offering her up own body as a sacrifice. Even though she was the most powerful being in the room—in strength and in power—I still wouldn't put it past Elvis to try something rash. I noticed even my father was sending 628 an admiring eye. He disliked her even more than I did, but I could still tell he found her attractive. Elvis for one was looking at her body with an almost hungry expression, like a hobo who spies a slab of fresh meet at the bottom of a dumpster.

"Hey baby," he said patting his knee. "Why don't you have a seat right here."

"I thought you were with Bonnie?" Sparky said in his buzzing, almost _electric _voice.

Elvis' chest swelled as he smirked, probably feeling like the biggest man in the world. "Ah you know how it is," He said to Sparky. "Sometimes it's hard to juggle all the females I'm seeing." Despite his lecherous intent, this was enough to earn the approval and respect of every other male sitting at the table. Especially Kixx who gave my older brother a congratulatory pat on the back.

628's frown line deepened and she stared at Elvis and looked down, disgusted, at his waiting knee—a spot he had chosen specially for her. "I don't think so Elvis," she said flatly.

Elvis' ears dropped and I could practically hear the air escaping his head as he was brought down to earth. My Father laughed and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Ah come on," He my brother said, regaining some of his composer and lost momentum. "You know you want me." At this Kixx's eyebrows raised and he seemed to admire the younger experiment's confidence. However, 628 was not as impressed.

The beige female lifted her hands on her her hips and looked at Elvis, her eyes narrowed. As she spoke she was already moving across the kitchen. "You obviously don't know that much about females." She then pushed past Sparky and pressed her lips against mine.

My ears shot up in surprise, and I immediately felt hot behind the ears. When she pulled away, 628 shot Elvis a smug—almost satisfied look as he sat rigid in his chair, staring incredulously at 628, his jaw dropping to the floor.

There was some hooting and a rather large amount of whooping from the other males of the group. 628 sensually walked away from the table and vanished into the living room, leaving an impression like shinning red wire in the air. "Enjoy your game boys," She said.

My Father grinned at me and Kixx gave me a strong, almost _painful_, pat on the back. Obviously they thought a little more of me now. I grinned sheepishly and nervously scratched the back of my neck. If my fur weren't so black they would have seen me blushing.

When 628's lips had pressed against mine. My ears immediately felt hot. Her touch was forceful but soft. For a moment I could smell the flowery scent of her fur, but then it was over. She had pulled away, slowly, and I swear: she looked a little flushed herself. I knew that kiss wasn't for me. It was for Elvis. She wanted to make him furious and what better way to do that than to kiss the one person he hates the most. 628 and I were good enough friends to know that meant nothing. But still, the moment her warm, supple mouth had pressed against my lips. I felt a surge—almost like electricity—streak down my body, heating my skin. I had never been so excited by a female before. But the stunned look on Elvis' face was still all the reward I needed.

The game went on for hours. Since 628 had kissed me, the game seemed to evolve into a one-on-one battle between Elvis and I. When it came down to just the two of us, the bets were never higher and I constantly found the others folding while Elvis and I always challenged each other. Now the air was full of something other than just smoke and competitive shouts. Now it was jam packed with the stench of Elvis' and mines vicious hatred, expressed vividly by the cards we threw down in blatant defiance of each other. Elvis seemed to draw his anger and resolve from a reservoir of negative emotions that had built up inside him over the years; while it was my unrelenting incentive and the almost hateful drive to defeat my brother that kept me going. Soon it came down to the final hand. The chips were piled even and the cards were drawn. When it came down to one or nothing, the other males pushed away from the table, knowing that the real game was between Elvis and I. They watched, eyes wide, afraid to breath, as Elvis called his bet.

"I see your twenty, and raise you," he lifted his paw and dropped some more chips onto the pile. "One hundred." There were gasps from Kixx and Richter alike, and Sparky looked as if he was going to explode from the suspense. Now all eyes were on me.

I gently stroked the bottom of my chin, looked down at the cards in my hand, and then up at Elvis, my eyes searching for a tell. Was he bluffing? Or telling the truth?

"I raise five hundred dollars." I dropped the appropriate amount of chips and waited for Elvis. "Your move," I said.

My Father's eye darted between the two of us. He seemed just as anxious as the rest.

"Eight hundred," He declared. Chips were dropped.

"Nine hundred."

"One thousand."

"Twelve hundred!"

"Fifteen Hundred!"

"You don't have it!" I shot back.

"I've been saving since I was a kid." Elvis pulled out his wallet. "My life savings," he said, dropping his wallet into the pile of blue, red and white chips. The wallet gave a chiming rattle as its leather body fell onto the shifting plastic disks.

I growled and lifted my head towards the living room. "628!" I called.

I heard a sigh and a moment later she entered the kitchen. "What?"

"Get me my checkbook."

628 looked from me, to the pile, and then at Elvis. "Simon I don't think—"

"Just get it!" I snapped.

628 rolled her eyes and left through the back door. Between the time it took her to walk to our house and back, my eyes never left Elvis. 628 re-entered the kitchen five minutes later, my black leather checkbook held in her powerful white fist. She handed it to me and I immediately wrote a cheque for fifteen hundred dollars, placing it on top of Elvis' wallet.

"I call," I said.

Elvis jumped up from his seat and slammed his cards on the table, face up. "A straight! In Diamonds!"

My ears dropped, and just when Elvis was reaching out for my check, I flopped my cards down into the table. "A royal flush," I said scathingly. I smiled and leaned back in my chair. Eyes widening in disbelief, Elvis buried his face into his hands, angrily dropping his head onto the table.

I leaned forward, lit cigar, and took a _long_ satisfactory puff. "I love the smell of cigars," I said, staring down at its smoldering tip. "It smells like. . ._victory._"

My distraught brother let out a beastly roar of defeat and slammed his fist down on the table, causing it to crack slightly. If there was anything he hated more than losing; it was losing to _me_.

My Father, beaming with pride, pounded his hand down onto my shoulders and pushed my winnings in front of me. The other males, while still skeptical about me, gave generous nods of approval. But the best reward of all was when 628 hugged me. After that I felt my chest puff out a little. I was a rising star shooting to victory, leaving my sullen brother in the murky darkness of defeat. I had never beaten Elvis at anything before—other than something academic—so this was an occasion worth remembering. It was the day I would always remember as the day I beat my brother. Unfortunately. . .for yours truly. My one shining moment of glory was shattered in the form of a frantic, four-eyed scientist who came barreling through the door, throwing it open so hard it caused the glass pane to shatter.

"Jumba!?" I said, jumping down from my chair. "What's wrong?"

All four of his eyes narrowed. "Simon," he heaved. "THE FEDERATION IS COMING!"


	22. The Grand Councilwoman Rises

**Alius111: **I'm sorry for the long wait. I really don't have an excuse except that I've been very busy with my school work and haven't been able to find the time to write. I had to get this chapter out of the way to sort of get back on track again. I promise, all lose ends in left dangling in this chapter will be set straight in the next.

P.S Excuse the mistake. I think I may have missed a few.**

* * *

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**Simon's Experiment's II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**The Grand Councilwoman Rises**

A thousand thoughts rushed through my head as Jumba came barreling through the door, exasperated and fighting for breath, his face contorted with desperation, his four eyes nearly popping out of his skull like large white golfballs. The first of which had been anger. My mind screamed at Jumba for practically blowing my secret not only in front of my father! But in plain sight of my brother and four other experiments! Even as Jumba fell to his knees and reached out for me with one massive hand, chocking out as many words as he possibly could between hurried breaths; I felt like leaping up into the air and throttling him.

Jumba looked so weak and so spent, I knew he must of run all the way from the lab to the house, never stopping and ready to trample through hell itself should it get in his way. My anger was momentarily forgotten as all the color drained from my best friend's face, leaving him a sickly purple color that was lighter than his usual tone. Sweat had collected on his mighty brow where from behind, his genius brain furiously pumped out words he was desperate for me to hear. The other males—other than my father and Aaron of course, had made themselves scarce, quietly exiting through the front door while everyone was occupied with the portly scientist who suddenly keeled over—right there in the center of Nani's kitchen, clutching his chest and inhaling like a tired old horse with a bad leg.

"Jumba!" I was at his side in an instant. "Are you alright!?"

Jumba wheezed and looked me in the eye. I could see right into their dark cores. They were like holes in his face. "No time!" He gasped, extracting a small test tube from his breast pocket. "Drink this!" In the moment before he popped off the stopper and shoved the open end of the tube into my mouth, I saw that the tiny glass cylinder was filled with a pallid blue fluid—a fluid that I was now drinking, finishing it in two large gulps.

I shuddered. A cold feeling like shards of glass stabbing me in the stomach nearly brought me to my knees. The fluid—what ever it was—left a sour, almost rancid taste in my mouth. Other than than near crippling pains in my abdomen, I didn't see the purpose of Jumba forcing me to drink whatever the hell it was he gave me. It was around the time a blinding green light, like the lights of a massive neon sign, drowned our tiny two story beach house, swallowed us up in its green depths, that my entire body began to itch.

I knew what it was before any one else did. . .it was the light emitted by a Elite Class Federation's ship as it prepared to land.

Over my brother's frantic cries as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes to block the light; a voice rose over the madness. A voice that sent a shiver running down my spine and caused goosebumps to break out all over my body. The others might not of recognized it, but how could I forget that deep terrible sound, the sound that demanded obedience and held just the tiniest fragments of femininity. How could I forget _her_ voice. It was my worst nightmare come to life. S_he_ was here . . . and she had finally come for me.

"Attention residence of the Pelekai household," her voice rang through the house, amplified by loud speakers to a fantastic degree. "Prepare yourselves."

We weren't even given a second before the front door was blown of its hinges and federation soldiers swarmed into the house. Their guns held up high, the soldiers marched into the living room single file, forming two parallel lines on the left and right side of the door, making a sort of walkway between their bodies in which their weapons hung suspended in the air, almost as if saluting. Down the hall in Nani's room, a thousand miles away, a child started to cry.

It was then that I saw her emerge from that green hell; her cane pounding the inferior wood of our floor, her icy green eyes smoldering like emeralds thrown onto a fire. The soldiers stiffened and raised there guns higher as she walked past. The sliver head of her polished cane angrily reflected the glare of the green spotlight. It was like some monstrous all-seeing eye. At the sight of her I felt my heart drop to my stomach and bury itself somewhere in my hindquarters. By the sight of that cane and those damned eyes, I felt my whole world being ripped to shreds in a dazzling radiance of green light. She was here, the _goddess _had come to Hawaii.

It was then that Nani chose to run into the living room carrying a child who looked to be either one or two against her heaving breast. The child was crying a cry that could of waked the dead. Aaron and my Father also came running into the living room—just as surprised as I was to see the chief and commander of the Galactic Federation in their home, her intimidating presence dominating the room, looking very much out of place among the bamboo and odd decor of our home. I faintly registered the mechanical sound of the platform. Lilo came running into the room and joined us, standing quietly at my father's side. Her expression was unreadable but her eyes were wide with fear and wonder.

"What is going on here!?" Nani demanded while she fumbled with the screaming child in her arms. "**What** are you doing in my **house**!?"

The Grand Councilwoman frowned and raised her hand. As if she had willed it: the green light died, leaving us all in the dull glow of our primitive earth illumination balls. That's what Jumba would of called light bulbs.

I took a moment to let my eyes adjust. I was seeing stars and bright green blotches.

Getting right to business, the Grand Councilwoman composed herself, looked Nani right in the eye, and said, "I am here looking for a fugitive—"

"There is no one like that here!" Nani cut across. Her face was red. It was rare that I saw her this angry. This was usually around the time she would grab a pillow and scream into it to vent her frustrations, but there was _no_ pillow here.

The Grand Councilwoman waited patiently before continuing. "I am here to locate a fugitive," She repeated. Her eyes flared as if daring Nani to interrupt her again. "I have reason to believe that he might be here."

"I don't care if you're looking for the lost city of Atlantis!" Nani carefully thrust her child into David's arms (who just so happened to walk around the corner) and got right into the Grand Councilwoman's face. She was absolutely livid and it was evident in each syllable she spoke. "You do not come into _my_ house, break down _my_ door, scare _my_ family, and wake _my_ child! You're lucky I don't throw you out of here with a papaya upside the head!"

While all of this was going on I stood still as a statue in the spot where the living room connected with the kitchen. It was almost as if I was afraid the air would shatter around me like glass should I dare move even the slightest bit. The Grand Councilwoman was standing right in front of me—_right there!_ I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had expected some one to come—but never her herself. What was she doing? Usually the high powered villain sends their lackeys to do their bidding—but _no_! Not her! I never could of predicted that she would take the matter into her own hands, but the more I thought about it, the more it began to make sense. How stupid I was to underestimate her. She had come for me and now I was stuck. But isn't it the strangest thing. . .she had looked right at me and said nothing. Obviously she must see me. Why wasn't she barking orders for her soldiers to arrest me instead of arguing with Nani—said earth women doing most of the arguing while the Grand Councilwoman held her stoic mask. But she could never hide her true self—no! One only had to look into her eyes to see her _true_ brutality.

"Be silent woman." It was a small sentence but it was uttered with such command and such force that Nani instantly went quiet. The Grand Councilwoman's grip tightened on her cane and she said, oh so forcefully, "I have come to this planet EEE-ARTH in search of _Simon_." She looked down at my father with disgust and pure loathing as if he were some reptile that had just crawled up from underneath a rock. "I believe you know of him 626. He escaped from federation custody five weeks ago and I have reason to believe he might be hiding here on this island." The Grand Councilwoman raised her hand and the soldiers standing behind her threateningly advanced on the small Hawaiian family. "You _will_ cooperate or I will have no choice but to use more. . ._forceful_ methods of interrogation." Her icy stare shifted slightly. "Starting with the girl." She looked down at Lilo who was immediately defended by my father. Her stoic mask had cracked now and her brutality was leaking through. I could only pray for my family's sake that it didn't break.

I couldn't believe this was happening—I couldn't believe she was here—No! Not here—anywhere but here! I have seen the goddess in all her anger and rage and know she is a wrathful entity. Neither a beautiful goddess nor benign, but a creature all hatred and revenge, power and tyranny. She is clever and cunning and has tracked me down from the far reaches of the galaxy. She was powerful and her reach was long. All who obeyed the goddess were blessed and were lifted into her favor and onto the pantheon of the privileged few. But PRAY me friends PRAY for all those who dare defy her. The goddess does not forgive treason and all who betray her die and—as Fletcher once so eloquently put it: have a annoying habit of disappearing. Was I to be her next victim? Would she descend down from the sky like a vengeful angel wielding a flaming sword and cut me down in all her wrath? Would I be the next to rot in the darkness of her prison, my twisted and mutilated face upturned towards the sky, screaming until my throat bled? I wasn't sure. . .but I know one thing. . .I was too terrified to even move. I couldn't even look to my family to see their reaction when the Grand Councilwoman revealed me as a liar and as a fugitive on the run from the law.

Looking confused and alarmed, Nani turned around, guided David and her child out of the living room, and faced the Grand Councilwoman. As I stared up at Nani I realized how pathetically small she was compared to the Commander and Chief of the Galactic Federation. She looked so meek and insignificant. I felt sorry for her.

As if she sensed me thinking about her, Nani looked down at me and for a moment all was still. Our eyes met and we stared at one another. I couldn't read her face but her eyes were uncertain. She looked lost. Everything—my freedom, my hope, my revenge; it all depended on Nani and the next few words that would come out of her mouth. In those few uncertain moments we never spoke but the fear was evident on my face. I was pleading with her—silently pleading with her to spare me, to forgive what she thought I had done and save me from this horrible women. It's moments like this that really test the ties of family. What was it to be then? Would she point me out and surrender me to the law, or would she come to my rescue and uphold the values of the Ohana.

My ears dropped in disappointment when Nani glared at me. With only a hesitant look, Nani had told me exactly what she thought of me. By just looking at me with those angry chocolate brown eyes, she informed me of her intentions. That was it then. It was over. Back to Prison Asteroid K37 it was for me. Despite my silent plea, the proud Hawaiian women faced the Grand Councilwoman, stood tall, and said with as much dexterity as she could muster, "Simon isn't here."

I nearly gasped and looked up at Nani, my eyes hopeful and full of admiration for the women standing before me. When the Grand Councilwoman's expression became deadly, Nani looked down at me, winked, and smiled slightly. "Simon was never here," She said adamantly. "We haven't seen him since he was taken away to prison." From there the rest of the family collaborated with Nani's plan. All of them bravely defended me and confessed that I had never set foot on Earth in almost two years. It was like watching a band of thieves coming together for one last heist.

"Hasn't been here," Lilo said.

"Nope, haven't seen him," Aaron agreed.

"Naga, Simon no feeba," My Dad added.

Jumba, who had managed to drag himself into the living room, wiped the sweat from the his brow only to confirm what everyone had said.

I smiled and looked around at my family. I was truly touched by how fast they all came to my rescue. I frowned and looked down at the floor, ashamed. I didn't deserve a Ohana so loyal and good. I suddenly felt very guilty about my plans to kill Elvis, but this was neither the time nor the place to worry—_especially_ not the time.

The Grand Councilwoman nearly bellowed and slammed her cane down onto the floor. The soldiers behind her trembled in place, not daring to move, one of them even whimpered. Obviously they were just as afraid of her as anyone else. "Do you think I am a fool!" She yelled, advancing on us all. "I have been searching tirelessly for that little Trog and have hunted down thousands of escape pods all over the galaxy. Do you expect me to believe that he has not come to the one place that he would be safe." Her face was frantic and the distinctive marking on her forehead were twitching, deep seeded with rage. "You are all lying—I know he is here—and I know you are hiding him. Unless you relinquish the boy, I assure you all that you will never be in any position to defend any one ever again."

Jumba straightened his back as he glared at the Grand Councilwoman. "What are you going to do? Bring us before Galactic Council? Bah! We have done nothing wrong."

The Grand Councilwoman's eye flared and Jumba shook slightly but held his ground. "Trust me Dr. Jumba," She said with malice in her voice, "If I discover that he is here and that you all have lied to me. Not even the Council will find you—"

"Hold it! Hold Everything!"

I turned to face the hall and nearly did a back flip when Pleakley came marching into the living room, his hand outstretched, his eye glaring angrily, wearing nothing but a bright Orange dress that hugged his pencil thin body. "What is going on here?" He asked the room. He stopped and noticed the soldiers and the Grand Councilwoman who was staring at him incredulously. Pleakley frowned and looked to Jumba. "Jumba," He said lightly, "What's with all the hoopla!?"

Jumba smacked his forehead and irritably said, "Pleakley, this is not right time. GO back to room!"

Pleakley again looked to the Grand Councilwoman, his single eye looking her up and down. "Who's this?" He asked Jumba. "Whoever she is, obviously no one has told her that _pink_ is now the new black." Pleakley turned a skeptical eye towards the Grand Councilwoman's all black uniform. "Yuck," he said sticking out his two purple tongues.

"Pleakley," Jumba said under his breath. "This is new _Grand Councilwoman_."

"Huh?" Pleakley turned to look at the women in question, then at the soldiers, and it all his seemed to click in his mind. Eye widening in fright Pleakley let out a girlish shriek and threw himself at the Grand Councilwoman's feet. "Oh I am so sorry your H-Highness," He whimpered, groveling. "I didn't know, and I was just kidding before," He smiled and let out a nervous chuckle. "That outfit is actually _very _flattering—even on you." He trembled forward and tried to grab at the hem of her dress—only for his hand to pass right through and hit nothing but floor."Huh" Pleakley looked up and again tried to touch her dress, and when his hand went right through her again. Pleakley watched, confused, as she began to shimmer and break. Her entire body trembled like the image on a television before finally solidifying. Pleakley's eye widened as he pulled back his hand. This wasn't the real Grand Councilwoman after all—it was just a hologram!

"That is enough _Ex_-Agent Wendy Blinky," The Grand Councilwoman said. I sighed in relief. She sounded much calmer now, her former anger had been drawn away by my noodle friend's pathetic display, or maybe she just liked it when people groveled.

"Um. . .it's Pleakley your Grace," Pleakley corrected but immediately regretted after receiving a very cold look from the Grand Councilwoman. "N-never mind," He said, slowly crawling behind Jumba.

Now that I realized that she was nothing more than a holographic projection, I suddenly felt much more at ease. I don't know why—after all the Federation was still here and no doubt they would want to search the island for me. I was almost certain they would find evidence that I had been here—and even more strange! I have been standing in front of them for the past ten minutes and no one has said a thing! What are they blind!?

As if on cue, The Grand Councilwoman looked down at me and our eyes met. Green met black and I could almost hear gears turning in her head as she tried to remember who I was. "Who is this?" She asked pointing her cane at me(which she had picked up. I expect wherever she was—probably back on Planet Turo is some massive office—she had actually thrown it down).

"This is my son Presley!" My father yelled throwing his arm around me.

_What? _I thought looking at my father as if he had gone mad. _Presley? _That was when it clicked. I raised my eyebrows in understanding and looked down at my body. My once black and grey fur had been transformed in to a healthy shade of blue that matched my father's. That was what the formula Jumba gave me did. It changed the colour of my fur. In spite of myself, I smiled and looked over at my father. We could have been twins now that we had the same shade of fur.

The Grand Councilwoman cocked and eye ridge, leaned back to talk with one of her soldier, then faced us with a very suspicious look on her face. "Curios," she said walking towards my father. "I don't remember reading about another son in your updated file—"

"Oh! Wait!" Lilo quickly ran into the hallway, vanished up into her room and reappeared a moment later holding a picture of the entire family in her tan fist which she then handed to the Grand Councilwoman who snatched the photo from the little girl's fist, giving the picture a skeptical look. On the photo was an image of my father, Elvis, Aaron, Presley, and myself standing on a wide stretch of beach. Elvis was looking very proud on father's side, while Aaron and Presley were giving the camera man a very mischievous looks. I of course stood next to them, my head dropped, looking very melancholy. . . .this photo was taken a long time ago. . .back when Presley was still alive.

The Grand Councilwoman's eye flared dangerously and for a moment I thought the little photo might burst into flames in her holographic fist(They now have the technology to make projections a little more solid if they need to hold something light. . .say. . .like a photograph) Handing the photo back to Lilo, the Grand Councilwoman raised her eyes to wall above the sofa where many framed pictures of the family hung, depicting some of our most recent and cherished memories. Squinting suspiciously she moved briskly into the living room, stood stoically in front of the sofa and said, "Strange, I don't see Presley in either of these photographs," She frowned and turned to me. "How very _peculiar_."

_Oh you're so sly,_ I thought. _But so am I._

"I was always the one holding the camera," I said giving my father's shoulder a hardy squeeze.

The Grand Councilwoman nodded—her icy green eyes suddenly went wide when she heard my voice and I felt like smacking myself. "What did you say?" She asked, advancing on me. My dad moved closer to me and reassuringly squeezed my shoulder. "That is quite the distinguishing voice you have there Presley," She smiled, folder her arms behind her back so her cane stuck out like a tail and leaned forward. "No where near as high as 626, but a little deep and sophisticated with a hint of pompousness and arrogant reassurance masked by false self-righteousness. Like the sort of tone a _scientist_ would use. A voice like that. . .is not easily forgotten."

I laughed nervously and shrugged. "Well. . .that's puberty for you. Once that hit my voice went right down." I smiled and playfully nudged my father. "And it also augmented a few _equally_ amazing appendages." I laughed. _Yeah, that sounds like something Presley would say. . . except for the word augmented. . ._

The Grand Councilwoman glared at me. "Indeed." She turned to Lilo. "You are the little Earth girl, Lilo, are you not? The ambassador for this planet?" Lilo nodded—albeit a little hesitantly. "You are also the caretaker of the experiments that inhabit this," She looked around the living room, her eyes lingered on a rotted apple core left on the coffee table, "planet?"

The little girl, looking even more pathetic than her sister had, cautiously moved away from my father's side and approached the Grand Councilwoman, her tiny tan fists clenched, her head nodding in response to the woman's question. I was starting to become afraid. Why was she signaling Lilo out from everyone else? The answer suddenly came to me and my heart ran a mile: Lilo was the weak link. She was just a little girl. I didn't even have to mull it over in my mind before I knew what the Grand Councilwoman was planning. Lilo was young, naïve, sweet, but still VERY immature when compared to the older woman who presence dominated the room. Lilo could be manipulated, Lilo could be frightened, but most of all, she could be threatened. Still, she had her Ohana behind her and maybe, if we could someone how pull through, that would be enough.

Little did I know, billions of light years away, something terrible was about to happen.

**Planet Turo . . .**

Reuben stood alone in a long hallway. Like the rest of the apartment building, the hall had a metallic, cold, and sterile feel to it. Bright, sheen, and luminous. The walls were made of some strange white alloy which reflected the glare of the lights like a mirror. In the reflections it looked as if there were hundreds of Reuben's standing in the hallway, fumbling with his groceries and key-cards as he tried to get into his apartment. On his left where the wall suddenly stopped there was a long stretch of window. From where he stood he could see out into the capital of the Galactic Federation. It was night. The hundreds of towering skyscrapers were like monoliths covered in thousand of dazzling lights. What had to be millions of spacecrafts were flying around in rows and organized lines, guided by orbiting lights that would flare red and green. Above them thunder rumbled in the dark violet clouds.

Reuben, after using an extra arm, managed to slip his card key into the slot and the door opened. He smiled, slipped his key back into his pocket and stepped inside. He felt a slight breeze of air brush past his face. He paused, set down his grocery bag and peered down the hallway. It was deserted. The only thing to be seen were the hundreds of other Reuben's reflected in the floor and the walls.

"H-Hello?" He called, his voice echoed down the hall. "Anyone there?"

No answer.

Deciding it was nothing, Reuben collected his groceries, walked inside, and closed the door.

His home was a small, modest, one room apartment. On his salary it was all he could afford but at least he wasn't living in squalor. It was a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom and a dinning room deluxe all rolled into one. To his left was a small section which was the kitchen, to his right there was a narrow closet which hung open, the darkness inside peering at him. The rest of the apartment was dominated by a large square bed. The smell of cold cuts and mayo was in the air. The floor was carpeted and soft. Beyond the bed was a very short hallway which led to the bathroom. It wasn't much, but it was home.

The apartment was dark save for the dull and dismal light shining in through the convex window that was the west wall. Looking around, Reuben sighed, threw his groceries onto the counter, and and approached the fridge. The kitchen was cramped but there was more than enough for the portly experiment to maneuverer around without fear of knocking something over—not that there was anything valuable to damage. Reuben possessed the simple commodities and technology everyone else did, but nothing worth stealing. At least, not in 625's opinion.

Reuben opened the refrigerator and the kitchen was suddenly cast in a ghostly light. Inside there were packages carefully wrapped in cellophane and boxes of vegetables all labeled with what types of bread they might go with. Inside were all the ingredients one would ever need to make a sandwich (as if Reuben would run out).

"Excuse me sir," Said a robotic voice. "You have messages."

Reuben turned around and faced a hovering steel ball which floated just above the counter. On its face was a blinking red light.

"Play," Reuben said, sticking his head into the refrigerator.

Behind him, the light on the metal ball turned blue and a five-inch image of Gantu was projected right before his eyes.

"Good evening, Reuben." The hologram said. Reuben smiled and looked up. It was good to hear from his friend. After he was fired from the federation they sort of fell out of touch. It filled him with relief to know that his best bud was still poking around the universe. However, it was not so good to hear the urgency in his friend's tone. Reuben closed the fridge and gave his full attention to the message. What could make Gantu sound so frantic?

The Ex-Captain of the Galactic Armada looked tired and ragged. He wore thick grey overalls and a large baseball cap which were covered in a filthy coating of grease and oil. _That's what ya get when workin' in a junkyard, _Reuben thought. His once muscular body had given away to fatigue and a large potbelly that spilled over his waistline. His hands were calloused and gritty, not like a soldier's hands anymore. He had **definitely** seen better days.

"I apologies for calling on you at such an inconvenient time but . . ." Gantu frowned. "Someone broke into my home last night and ransacked my study." The holographic Gantu reached into his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead using a handkerchief. "Disturbing as this is, I felt I should warn you as whomever broke into my study stole a page from my agenda with your address inscribed on it." Reuben listened in a mix of fear and anxiety. He had a sudden impulse to throw the answering machine across the room but didn't. The simple matter was, he was curios. So he listened. "I thought it quite strange that the perpetrator would take only this and leave my fuel cells intact." Gantu's face became concerned. "Please, take care of yourself, Reuben. I don't know who is responsible but they are apparently trying to get in contact with you, and in my experience a man willing to enter a home and steal . . . doesn't hesitant when it comes to more . . . troubling ideals. Contact me when you receive this message." The holographic Gantu disappeared and was immediately replaced with the image of a tall, slender women with bright purple eyes and two thin tentacles protruding from her forehead. She spoke in a sweet, caring voice but Reuben was barely aware. The shock from Gantu's message sent shivers down his back rippling like cold fingers.

Was somebody after him?

"Hey baby," The woman said, making sure that her cleavage showed through from the tight blouse she was wearing. "I had a great time last night. Call me when you get this." The women winked and blew a kiss before vanishing into nothingness, leaving Reuben alone in his dark, one bedroom apartment. He suddenly wished he had taken in some overtime at work.

"End of finale message." The orb said before zooming back to its place on the other side of the room.

Reuben gulped and walked out of the kitchen. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry. "Lights on . . . . what?" Reuben nervously glanced around the dark apartment when the lights failed to activate. He blinked and his eyes went green. From what he could see, the room was deserted. To make sure, he scanned the apartment a few more times before he allowed himself to calm down. _It just nerves, _he told himself. _Gantu's messages has me a little spooked. I just forgot to program the lights . . . that's all, that's all!_

Realizing he was still in uniform, Reuben reached up, unzipped himself, stripped down to his bare fur and tossed the uniform across the room. "Ah, much better," He said, enjoying the new sense of freedom. No matter how long he spent wearing clothing, naked was always better. It was more natural, more comfortable. And Reuben was a sucker for comfortable.

His eyes fell on his bed and a mischievous smile crept onto his face. The woman from the message, the one with the sweet voice and the slender body; she was his girlfriend. Reuben thought back to the night before and for a moment, he wasn't alone in his apartment, no, it was last night and he and that woman were on his bed, legs locked, hearts bounding, skin touching, moaning and screaming as they mated. It was one of the most wild nights Reuben had ever experienced with a woman—a wild night perfectly capped when he woke up the next morning to find her number scribbled on a little note left on his nightstand.

There was a tiny clank.

"Huh?" Reuben walked over to his bed, curiously staring down at the floor as he went. Bending forward, he picked up two pictures which had fallen from his nightstand. It didn't even occur to him that they might have been knocked down by the one careless gesture of an intruder, the intruder who had disabled his lights, the intruder who had broken into Gantu's study, and the intruder who was now watching him as he bent down to pick up the photographs that had fallen.

Reuben sighed and stared down at the pictures, one held in each hand, feelings of nostalgia and sadness welling up inside him. The one in his right hand was a photo of Stitch and his boys. Elvis, Presley, Aaron and Simon, all smiling at the photographer looking very happy whilst standing on that little stretch of beach. Well, except for Simon. He looked positively melancholy. _That kid never looks happy, _Reuben thought. The other photo was enough to contort Reuben's face into a sad frown. The other photo was of Angel, the only female he ever truly loved. Reuben's feelings for Angel began when Gantu had kidnapped her and locked her up in his ship back when they were still working for Hamsterviel. Of course he had always been _attracted_ to her, but only after she was locked away did he come to _love _her. Every night he used to creep up to her capsule, once again trying to woo her and win her affection—only to be rejected every time. When Angel and Stitch got together he tried to act happy for them but it still hurt. Even now he felt a hateful surge of jealousy snake into his heart. And now she was dead. And so were Reuben's affections. Forever he would be content to spend his nights experiencing meaningless and random sex with different woman every month or so. Never becoming close, never loving. He would die alone and he didn't even care. What's the point when the one you love is dead?

_Those should be **my** boy's, _Reuben thought, staring down at the picture of Stitch and his children. _That should be **my** muscular son,** my** twins, and **my** little genius._

Reuben growled and forcefully set the photos back on his nightstand. In that moment, Reuben hated Stitch, hated him for stealing Angel away, hated him for making her bear the litter which resulted in her death. But most of all, he HATED him for being the one Angel loved. Why couldn't it of been him? Why wasn't it Stitch who was now staring down at a picture of HIS children? Reuben came to wish he had put in some over time. He needed to vent his anger and work was the best way to do it. Too bad he didn't, it might of saved his life.

"Pardon my intrusion."

Reuben screamed and spun around. There was no one. Only darkness.

A shadow hissed. It was a dark, hateful, scathing sound—like the sound a snake makes before its about to strike down its prey. From that terrible hissing sound there arose a sinister voice, barely audible but with each word spoken with a sharp resonance. And when it did. Reuben felt his skin tingle. That anxiety was back again.

"W-who's there?" Reuben said.

"Someone who'd **kill **to know where Simon Pelekai is!" The voice responded. Reuben shivered. That sound, it was so cold.

Focusing his eyes, Reuben stared across the apartment, his sharp gaze penetrating the darkness. And there, standing in the corner, a bright 'H' clasp pinned on his cape, he saw a tall shadow hiding in the corner of his living room. It was a tall black shape wrapped and obscured by the tight hood and cloak it wore. How long had he been standing there? Reuben wondered. How long had he been watching?

Again the Shape hissed its terrible snake-like voice. "Where is Simon?" It asked.

"Get the hell out of my house!" Reuben threatened, extending his extra set of arms. The shadow suddenly moved—no, more like twitched slightly. To Reuben it might of looked like it had barely moved at all, but the quick rush of air and the sound of a whooshing cape caused him to jump back. It had crossed his apartment in the blink of an eye. Eyes widening, Reuben looked over his shoulder at his nightstand. The two photographs were gone. _No way!_ His mind screamed. _No way he's __**that**__ fast!_

"Oooooh," The shadow said. "This one is beautiful."

In the dark Reuben could see the shape hunched over something as if it were vomiting. But Reuben knew, with a terrifying certainty, that it was looking at the photo of Angel—**his** Angel. He could hear the sound of the Shadow's claws raping against the glass frame.

The shadow slithered. "She has nice . . ." it chuckled. "Eyes." Its silky voice suddenly changed, becoming angry and filled with rage. "A shame she never lived long enough to see her son die!" The photograph was thrown across the room and shattered against the wall. Reuben barely had time to jump before the shadow spoke again, but this time, it was in a much calmer tone. "Ah, a proud father with his sons at his side. How very," It ran its tongue over its dry lips. ". . . _Moist_."

Reuben screamed when the photo of Stitch and his sons landed at his feet. There was a long, bloody claw mark drawn across Simon's face.

"W-what do you want?" Reuben asked, terrified.

The Shape almost purred in anticipation, although it sounded more like dark laughter. The kind of sound you hear creeping from the darkest corners of your mind, a creature of your nightmares, a silky seductive tone that drew you in as it closes its teeth around you. But by the time you feel its needle-sharp teeth pierce your skin, it is already too late. "Simon." It said.

"What—"

"Where is Experiment 626's son?"

"What—I don't know?" Reuben said, backing away until he bumped into his bed. He felt himself in the grip of a primitive terror, the kind that deer and wild animals must feel when they creep around a dried shrub to find themselves staring down the barrel of a Man's gun. His eyes never left the shape which remained still in the corner. It could've been a statue or a trick of the light, nothing other than a coat rack or a lamp made terrifying by his vivid imagination. No such luck. The thing standing in the corner was very real. And the danger the short, portly experiment had stumbled into, was also, **very real**. Reuben snapped his head to the right, his eyes falling on the hovering orb. "Call the cops!" He yelled.

A glint of silver suddenly sped from the shadow and struck the orb. There was a tiny beep and it exploded in a flash of bright light and burning shrapnel. Reuben screamed, shielding his eyes from the blast. The hot metal shards pelted him in the side. For a moment the apartment was illuminated and in the light, Reuben caught a glimpse of a thin green face peering out at him from under the Shape's hood. Then, darkness. Once again concealed by the dark, the shadow never stirred.

"Last chance!" The shadow spat. "Where is he?"

"I-I-I-I-I-I don't know where the kid is."

"**Wrong answer**."

The shadow moved. Reuben yelled and the rest seemed to follow in a series of frantic impulses. In a furry, Reuben spun around, his tiny yellow paws clinging onto his bed frame. His arms bulged as lifted the bed above his head and hurled it at the shadow. It collapsed underneath the projectile's massive weight, crumpling in a heap like a discarded piece of laundry. There was a loud crash and for a moment Reuben felt safe. The next few minutes that fallowed were the longest of his life. Of all the thing that had happened to him; the confrontation with Stitch on Gantu's ship, the epic battle with the Leroy's, meeting the tyrannical Grand Councilwoman for the first time, this was the worst. Reuben was always lazy and laid-back. But this time, his very life might depend on his dexterity.

Through the window Reuben could see the dark purple clouds stretching across the sky. A bolt of lightning struck and the clouds shone scarlet, filling Reuben's apartment with a crimson light. Suddenly a sharp, thin streak of silver sliced through the bed and hurled itself at Reuben's exposed stomach.

"Ouuuf," Reuben grunted, fell forward onto his knees and raised his hand up to his abdomen. He was alright, it seemed. He didn't feel the unbearable pain he had expected or the sharp stinging like a hot wire across his skin. Surely it must of missed? But then, what had hit him? Reuben tried to stand only to instantly collapse with a labored grunt. It was then that he felt it. A hot, sickly liquid pouring down his stomach. It covered his paws, stained his fur, collecting around him in a large, pink, puddle.

Reuben looked down. At first, he didn't believe what he was seeing. It was preposterous. Like one of those silly gag arrows people wear on their head on Halloween, there was a sheen black handle sticking out of his abdomen that stretched out into a shinning blade of silver. It was very short, or so it seemed. The rest of the knife was buried in Reuben's stomach. No wonder he didn't feel any pain. It had been a clean cut, a direct hit. The serrated edge of the knife had severed the nerves, leaving the skin around the hilt completely numb. It was only by his hand, legs, and knees that he could feel the blood pouring from the wound and down his front. Over the crunching sound of splintering wood rose a chilling voice. Death, it seemed, had come for him. He had been stabbed

The Shape was on him in an instant, kneeling over his body as he fell onto his back and in a pool of his own blood. A long spidery hand reached out, gripped the handle with its skeletal fingers, and wretched the knife from his flesh.

Reuben let out a pained whimper but it was mostly out of reflex. The truth was, he didn't hurt at all. As he lay there in his own blood, the acrid warmth he felt was almost like slipping into a warm bath.

The Shape's fingers were around his neck, the knife's gleaming blade hanging just above his face. Reuben's darkening eyes looked up and stared into the creature's hood, the oval shaped void that was its face. With a powerful lurch he coughed, sending a thin spray of blood into the void. He could hear it licking his blood from its lips. Even then, as it rose the knife into the air, the blade shining in the scarlet light. Reuben actually believed he wasn't going to do it. Why him? _Why me? _But it soon became apparent, so clear in fact that it was beyond even a shadow of a doubt. He was going to die. He was going to be _murdered_.

The Shadow leaned forward until the dark void and the tip of Reuben's red nose were almost touching, and whispered, "You should of told me where Simon is."

The last thing Reuben saw before the knife buried itself in his heart were a pair of piercing yellow eyes staring down at him from the dismal cores of the black void. However, his last thoughts had been only of one person—_Angel_. And the beats of his dying heart resounded with that one word, _Angel_. And it remained that way until the beating stopped, and long after he was dead. But for the Shape however, it was only beginning.

_Angel—his Angel—my Angel._

"_I love you Angel. . ."_


	23. A Fallen Legend

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**A Fallen Legend**

Fear itself, as an entity, seems to give off its own acrid stink. Dogs can smell it, they say. If that's the case then I must must of stunk to high-heaven. Was it the Grand Councilwoman's intuition whispering to her, telling her that I was here, on this planet. Or was it fear? My fear, that she was sensing. Have you ever been around someone, someone you were so sure could read your thoughts that you constantly find yourself keeping track of the things that ran through your mind? Well, if you have, then you know exactly how I felt as I nervously stood next to my father, staring at the Grand Councilwoman as she looked down on Lilo. Yes, she must be sensing fear, the air was ripe with it. It was at the forefront of my mind, screaming out loud that I was Simon and I was here! If she could read my mind, no doubt she could hear it as clearly as if I had said it aloud.

A cold smile tugging at her lips, the Grand Councilwoman stood tall, rested her hands on top her cane, and said, with a sense of authority and command that only the chief and commander of the Galactic Federation could muster, "You know where he is don't you. Tell me where. Now."

Lilo began to sweat a little. "N-No, I don't know where Simon is." Her gaze shifted to me.

The Grand Councilwoman raised her eye ridges and looked down at my father, her icy green eyes scanning him. "Experiment 626 . . . is a dangerous creature," She said, turning her back to us all, staring through the window and out into a long stretch of lush palm trees. "Why my predecessor would leave such a threat to the Federation in the care of a child is beyond my ability to comprehend." Her voice changed a little, becoming silky and smooth. "I think it . . . _irresponsible_ to leave him in your care."

"Stitch isn't dangerous!" Lilo yelled, pointing her finger up at the Grand Councilwoman. "I made him good, I _taught_ him to be good."

My father puffed out his chest and took his place by Lilo's side and said (Oh so proudly) "Ih, Stitch good now."

The Grand Councilwoman chuckled. "Oh yes, how quaint. Do you honestly believe that this thing actually **feels** for you? He is still the blood-thirsty little abomination who escaped from federation custody some eight years ago." She paused and turned around, facing us all. "And what of the others?" She asked. "All six-hundred and sixty-six of Dr. Jumba's experiments. Do you think you can take care of them forever?" again she chuckled. "I highly doubt a women of eighty will have the dexterity to look after a race of genetic _freaks_."

Lilo's face went blank, she dropped her finger, at a loss. As much as I hated to admit, she was right. What were my species supposed to do once Lilo died? We couldn't stay on Earth forever, nor could we ask her family to look after us for the rest of their lives. That wouldn't be fair. Us experiments would live for hundreds—maybe even _thousands_ of years. What would we do when our caretakers expired? Where would we go? The Pelekai family couldn't take care of us forever, and Jumba, our creator, was already suffering from the woes of old age. It became clear to me that our time on this lonely little planet might be coming to an end. It was something none of us wanted to face. We loved it here. This was our home. But we couldn't stay. We were always doomed to leave eventually. I looked at my Father . He seemed to be thinking the exact thing I was. He had a look of dread on his face that was almost heartbreaking. And now, it seemed, the Grand Councilwoman was going to make our time here even shorter if Lilo didn't comply and surrender me to her. Could I do that? Could I do this to my species just to save myself? How selfish would that be? Incredibly selfish, I decided. My revenge wasn't as important as the lives of my whole family. Best not to be too hasty though. I wanted to see where this was going before I made any rash decisions.

"You're wrong," Lilo said adamantly, "I **can** take care of them. They're my Ohana. We're family. We stick together no matter what."

_Oh dear God, _I thought_. I can practically hear her breaking into song._

The Grand Councilwoman's image shimmered. "Very well then." Her face became solemn. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. Her expression was so cold and hard, it was as if it were carved from marble. When the Grand Councilwoman opened her eyes they were like holes, the blackest holes, twin windows into a dark abyss penetrated by two shinning emeralds. I was terrified, even more so when a sentence sprang from her mouth, resonating in the living room with a harsh clarity. It was painfully clear and sharp. "If you will not surrender Simon. . . then you leave me no choice." Like a business woman, she tapped her cane and turned to her commanding officer. "I want you to gas the planet."

Everyone in the living room gasped. Except me, who could do nothing but look on with pure terror.

"WHAT!?" Lilo screamed.

The Grand Councilwoman frowned. "If I cannot find him myself; then I shall ensure that he will _**die**_ along with every other living creature that inhabits this planet. He is a threat to the Federation and I cannot risk the total destruction of the Galactic Order. If I must make sacrifices in order to ensure the safety of the Federation—if a planet must perish so democracy can live . . . then so be it."

No! I couldn't let this happen—not for me. I couldn't let her do this. To kill this planet to get to me, I wouldn't allow it. Looks like she's won. I put up a good fight but I should have known that her reach was too long for me to escape.

"Alright. . ." I said. "I give up. I'm—"

"STOP!"

The shout came from the kitchen.

"What?" I turned around and watched, flabbergasted, as 628 came walking into the living room, her hand outstretched, her eyes glowing vengefully like fiery orange disks. I had never seen her so furious before. She was like some kind of demon, a Valkyrie, a harpy, or some other kind of female creature of mythology. No, I was wrong; this wasn't mythology, this was science. Her gaze burned with the raw power of science. Her claws outstretched, 628 clamped her fist and stared right into the Grand Councilwoman's eyes.

_628, I almost forgot you were there . . ._

The hologram was shimmering now like a television with bad reception. The Grand Councilwoman's eyes were now glowing orange as well. Her face was blank, as if wiped clean of all emotion—like a computer with its memory erased. I imagined the real-life woman standing slack-jawed in some huge office, her cane dropped to the floor, her eyes shinning like a couple of headlights. 628 barked a command, and remarkably, the Grand Councilwoman listened.

"Cancel that order," 628 commanded. "You don't want to gas this planet."

"C-Cancel that order," The Grand Councilwoman repeated. "I do not want to gas this planet."

"You got that?"

The soldiers, in the grip of 628's mental domination, nodded and confirmed with a loud "Yes, sir!"

I stood silently in mute fascination and watched, amazed, as 628 guided the soldiers and the Chief and Commander of the Untied Federation across the living room. They moved like puppets who's puppet master was in complete control. When 628 walked passed she smiled and winked in my direction. Then turned and looked up, facing her puppets with a cold, calculating look.

"Simon isn't here." She said slowly.

The Grand Councilwoman repeated this as if it were a mantra. "Simon isn't here, Simon isn't here, Simon isn't here, Simon isn't here . . ."

"Simon was never here. You came, you found nothing, and you will go back to planet Turo without uttering a word. You found nothing here. You will never come back. Simon, is somewhere else."

When the Grand Councilwoman nodded and walked out the door, I felt like leaping over my father and hugging 628. Which is exactly what I did.

I'm not sure who was more surprised, her or me. Either way I pushed past my father and embraced 628 in the first honest-to-god hug I've given in probably a few good years. "628, I could kill you." I said excitedly, squeezing her for all I was worth. On some level I noticed how flowery her fur smelt. It was a deep earthy smell, like something you'd get a whiff of when around gardening tools. Her body was warm and pleasant and for once my overwhelming sense of gratitude smothered my deep urge to be brooding and melancholy.

628 chuckled sheepishly and patted me on the head. I think she was surprised by my sudden display of affection. I felt like laughing myself. "That won't be necessary," She said good-naturedly. "Just make me dinner and we'll call it even."

I released her, staring fondly at the female. She just saved my life. I was in debt to her. The only thing it would cost me is a few hours of slaving on a stove? Well, if a good meal is what she was after, then I was going to give her a dinner she would never forget. We all simultaneously looked up at the ceiling. Above we could hear the roar of the Federation's ship. The shock of the thrusters sent tremors through the house. I began to wonder how they would avoid detection, but then remembered every ship had cloaking devices. Although, they weren't always effective. I'm sorry to say some cases in which lowbrow farmers see lights in the sky are not all the products of hard drinking and heatstroke. Hey, our equipment can't work all the time.

When the loud thundering of the engines died away, vanishing forever into the dark void of space. I felt small and insignificant, and welcomed the feeling. I looked around at my family to their curious faces-- most of which were expressing pure relief. I still couldn't get over 628's sudden stroke of genius. Using her telepathic abilities to control the Grand Councilwoman. That's the kind of blinding epiphany which led to the discovery of gravity. I nearly jumped when I heard 628's voice in my head. And not just as a faint echo of memory, but as an actual separate entity intruding in my mind.

"_Why thank you," _Her voice said. _"I thought it was pretty clever too."_

I grumbled. I didn't know if she could sense it, but she seemed amused for some elusive reason and I had a good idea why.

"_I though I told you to stay out of my head."_

In the dark caverns of my mind I heard her laugh, and it filled my head completely, temporarily blocking out all thought. _"Don't worry so much. I not doing anything I shouldn't. I'm just hearing your thoughts . . . do you really think it was genius?"_

I ignored her question. _"Still, it's rude to burrow your way into my head . . . and yes I thought it was. Frankly I'm a little surprised you had the ability to control your power. Your attempts are always so erratic."_

Her voice came again, but this time she sounded a little indignant. _"Hey, I have a firm grip over my abilities . . . sort of. But alright, I'll be honest. There's no lying here . . . the truth is, I don't know how I did it. It just kind of . . . came to me and I just—well—went for it . . . . does that make sense to you?"_

I shrugged and felt a little foolish. I wasn't sure if I was shrugging mentally or physically. This whole telepathic communication was new to me._ "Yes, I suppose it does. I think your problem is you're thinking about it too much. These things are not about concentration. They're about instinct."_

I felt her agree with me and was delighted with the sensation. It wasn't just our minds that were connected, it was our emotions and senses as well. I could feel her slight anxiety which was hidden by an overwhelming excitement. I could only hope she sensed my unending gratitude. It was strange, I felt like I was seeing her in a whole new world, an intimate world where I could feel her every thought and feeling like it were my own. She was right, there was no lying here because there could be no lies between us. Not here. Not in our minds.

From that day on we developed a whole new way of communicating. When others chatted we would converse with each other in our heads. When she was alone 628 would sometimes seek me out with her thoughts and we would speak; sometimes even when I was on the other side of the island. Her mental reach was long. In our minds we could be honest with each other. Honest, and vulnerable. I felt as if we were connected in some other way . . . but I didn't know what. It was strange—phenomenal even. Every time I found myself stuck in one of Nani's boring conversations. I could always just talk to 628. It was fun, but I couldn't help but wonder if this had any negative side effects.

XXXX

The next morning I found myself sitting in Nani's living room, thinking about what I would cook 628 for dinner. I wanted it to be something good—something she would never forget. It would all be from scratch of course. Nothing less for her. I was a good cook myself. When I was younger I took courses over the Internet and along side my weekly lesson with Experiment 062, I perfected and honed my culinary skills. There are few things I am good at: surfing, playing the guitar, games of chance, and singing (I get that from my mom) But there are some things which I **excel**: playing the piano, all fields of science, linguistics, mathematics, and cooking. I have many useful talents but thats an added bonus when you're a genius. You have many hobbies. But the problem still remained . . . what to cook for 628 . . .

_For an appetizer . . . Mussels Provencale? I wonder if she will like that. It's bold but I'll risk it._

_Main course . . . I decided on Veal Parmigiana._

_Now, the most important—or at least second next to the wind. Dessert. This was troubling. I wanted something with a little__** flare—**__the answer came to me suddenly and without reason. Of course, Cherries Jubilee. 628 loved cherries. And for wine I chose an exquisite bottle of Dom Pérignon vintage 1938. _

I smiled, leaning back on the couch, marveling at my own culinary brilliance; when I heard 628s voice in my head.

"_Why are you at Lilo's this early in the morning?"_

"_I needed some privacy. Besides, everyone's asleep. I don't think they'll mind. Are you a vegetarian?"_

Her voice sounded a little shocked. _"No. Why?"_

"_Just curios."_

She suddenly sound very sly and excited. I could feel her anticipation leaking over our mental link. It was like a stone being dropped in a small pond, causing ripples to run across its glassy surface _"This wouldn't have anything to do with the dinner you're cooking me tonight, would it?" _She asked me.

I was starting to feel a little sly myself. I sort of liked having this little edge over her. _"Maybe . . . maybe not. I'll never tell." _She said nothing. Her voice was silent for so long I was beginning to think she left in a hurt silence. I was even preparing to sever our link (An ability she had given me) when she suddenly dropped a bomb on me.

"_Do you ever think about having kids?"_

The question caught me completely by surprise. _"W-what?" _I asked. I think she sensed my shock—What am I saying. Of course she did.

"_Kids," _She repeated. _"You know, children. Ever think of having any?"_

I sighed and sank a little in my seat. _"I used to . . . a long time ago. Before I was sent to prison."_

She seemed pleased with my answer, although, I registered something else hiding underneath her interest. I think it was doubt. Across our mental link I felt another question coming. _"What did you want to do, you know, before you were sent to prison?"_

I thought it over before answering. I wanted to be as honest as possible but I wasn't sure what to tell her. I had many dreams when I was a child. I was the youngest person to ever be elected into the E.G.O (Evil. Genius. Organization.) I was constantly getting letters from galactic universities inquiring (begging more like) if I wished to become a student or perhaps a professor. Galaxy Defense Industries (The company Jumba worked for before he was exiled to earth) always had their eyes on me. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Jumba had been grooming me for a job there. Yes indeed, the people of the Federation really had high hopes for me. But secretly, something I kept buried deep inside, I wanted to be a doctor. Not just any old clinic doctor; I wanted to be a medical genius! I wanted to save lives, I wanted to solve the cases that no one else could solve. I wanted to be galaxy-renowned . . . but then again, I also wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to run my own lab. I wanted hundreds of people working for me. However my interests don't run just to Genetic Experimentations and weapons of mass destruction; I also want to cure diseases and make the United Federation a better place for everybody. Funny, now that I think back, I can't remember why I stayed on earth rather than accepting one of their offers. Had it been Chemical 606 which had kept me here? Was I hoping to show up at Galactic Defense Industries doorstep with something to wonder and awe them? Maybe. Or maybe it ran deeper than that . . . what else could've kept me here. I was Jumba's star pupil and already a legend in the scientific community. There was no university that would have denied me. I could have gone anywhere! But then . . . what held me back?

I realized I still hadn't given 628 an answer.

"_What's the E.G.O?" _She asked.

"_What? How'd you—"_

"_I was reading your thoughts."_

"_Oh, well . . . the E.G.O is the Evil Genius Organization. It's a very prestigious club which only the most intellectual can become a member. It's sort of like Mensa . . . but just a little more menacing."_

She tried to sound interested but I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was thinking we were probably a bunch of stuffed shirts and hot heads who probably did nothing but sit in a lavish room always telling everyone how brilliant we are. Not true. That kind of respect had to be earned. Something I had accomplished time and time again. I was always different, I suppose the fact that I'm the offspring of a genetic experiment added to my mystique. The only thing I didn't approve of was their constant horning in. They kept trying to tear me away from Jumba so they could place me with what they agreed was a more "capable" teacher. I would never have left Jumba. He is my friend and mentor. There is none more capable than he is. Jumba is a Renaissance man, a pioneer. He was the first to break the law and the first to dare create a genetic experiment. And for that, I will **always** admire him.

I was about to say something when the channel on the television suddenly switched. I jumped and cursed, our mental connection lost. I forgot I left the television on.

Grumbling, I picked up the remote and was about to silence that mind warping box—when suddenly something caught my attention. They were displaying a picture of Reuben—my uncle Reuben! I wondered what for . . . had he been fired—No. They wouldn't put it on television for that. Maybe he received some sort of prestigious award. Eagerly I sat and listened, but as the woman on the television continued to speak my ears steadily began to fall.

"Agent Reuben, a galley officer for the Olympian Space Cruiser, was found **dead** this morning in his apartment. Local residents of his the building complained of loud noises from above, and when the superintendent went to investigate; he found Reuben sprawled on the floor, stone dead, with a specially customized hunting knife protruding from his chest. Though authorities could not be reached for comment; our sources believe that this horrendous crime may in fact be linked to a recently escaped convict "Simon Pelekai" who ran from Federation custody some five weeks ago. The Public is hereby warned to stay in their houses and urged not to panic. Penalties for breaking curfew have been increased to jail time. We do this for your own safety. The authorities have asked this station to stress how dire the situation has become. Mr. Reuben was found late last night around 10: 45 Am. His face . . . had been _eaten_."

I covered my mouth and shut the T.V off. The screen went black. For what seemed like hours I sat there on the couch, unable to move. He was dead? Reuben was dead? I couldn't believe it. There's no way someone would kill him. The harsh reality of what happened hit me. He had been murdered . . . found dead in his apartment . . . with his face . . . eaten. An image of Reuben staring wide eyed at me as I pointed a blaster at his head flooded my mind. I felt guilty. He was really gone. Never to make another sandwich ever again. It just didn't seem . . . real to me. I felt . . . disconnected—like I was floating out of my body. How could this be? Why was my face wet . . . was I crying? I closed my eyes tight as I pictured the face of the newscaster in my head. I saw how coldly she punched out each word, speaking in the dull boring tone of a woman reading from a teleprompter. With no compassion or sympathy. How cold she had been—even when she said how he was found with his face eaten. Sniffling, I rubbed my eyes with my forearm. I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

"Morning, dude, anything for breakfast?"

Leaning over the couch, I saw Aaron as he came into the living room, looking as innocent and oblivious as ever. He looked up at me and smirked. "How's it hanging?"

"I-I . . . I'm fine." I told him.

Yawning, he hoped over me and took a seat on the couch. "Dude, what's up? The TV's off . . . hey, you alright?"

"Huh?" I looked over at him. He was staring at me strangely, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, I'm fine," I said. "W-why do you ask?"

He shrugged and reached for the remote. "Dunno, you look a little out of it this morning. It's funny, every time you have that look on your face usually something bads happened." He snickered, punching my shoulder in his sly brotherly fashion.

Nervously I chuckled and stared down at the floor, becoming very occupied with a little spider crawling across the floor. "B-bad," I mumbled. "No . . . of course not. Why would you even say that? I mean of course it's a possibility—bad things happen don't get me wrong, but what's makes you think I'm making a face which somehow implies something horrendous with the potential to rip our family apart has occurred and holding it in is eating me up inside, slowly and painfully raping against my very core, continuously sobbing and bleeding in hopeless despair threatening to explode at any given moment . . . If that's what you're implying . . . well . . . you obviously need to get more sleep. So go on and get back to bed . . . uh . . .dude."

_Shut up you idiot. What's the matter with you? You're going to tip him off._

Aaron was looking at me as if I had grown a horn on my forehead. "Uh . . . right, whatever." He shook his head and stared back at the television. "I think I'll stay downstairs if it's all the same to you." Raising the remote, he clicked the power button.

"WAIT STOP!" I lunged across the couch and tackled Aaron, madly trying to pry the remote out off his hand. Angrily, he shoved me off to the side and plopped me onto the floor. "What's your problem!?" he yelled. "You suddenly got a problem with me watching TV?"

"I—uh," I looked over at the television and sighed with relief. It was just some stupid toy commercial. "No, I just thought a documentary on the mating rituals of the Indian Rhinoceros might be on the Discovery Channel . . . I am a scientist after all."

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "You wanna watch a bunch of Rhinos doing it?"

I smiled sheepishly. "O-of course I do . . . I just said I'm a scientist."

Aaron raised his hands and threw me the remote. "Whatever man, just make sure you wash your hands after."

Before I could get another word in, Aaron jumped down from the couch and walked off into the hallway. I called after him when it hit me. "Wait no! That's not what I . . . ah forget it." I waved it away. _Great, my brother thinks I have a Rhino fetish. _But I had worse things to consider than how dense Aaron is. Circling around the living room, lost in thought, I tried to decide on the best course of action. Should I tell the rest of the family Reuben was found murdered in his apartment? Didn't I have a responsibility to tell them? I should tell them. They have a right to know. Besides, they would just find out some other way . . . eventually. Then again . . . did I really want to be the bearer of such bad news?

I turned around and saw Aaron return to the living room. I rolled my eyes when I noticed he had both ears pulled over his eyes. "Sorry to bother you man," He said. "But I just came down to get something to eat . . . don't pay any attention to me." Slowly he began walking towards the kitchen, moving and stumbling like a blind man.

"Grow up Aaron," I said bitterly.

He stopped just short of the kitchen, looking back at me, peeking from under his two large, floppy ears. When he was sure everything was fine, he let his ears loose, shrugged his shoulders and ran up to the fridge. "What do we got to eat?" Aaron called to me. I swear, he had always had food on the mind. He obviously got his appetite from our father.

"I don't know," I said. "What ever is in the fridge. OH! By the way. I'm cooking dinner for 628 tonight?"

From the kitchen I heard the sound of Aaron rummaging through the cupboards. "Cool," He said. "What'ya making?"

"Well. For an appetizer I'm making Mussels Provencale. For the main course I'm making Veal Parmigiana. And for dessert: Cherries Jubilee."

"Dude, that sounds good. Is there gonna be any booze?"

I nodded. "Yes, a bottle of Dom Pérignon vintage 1938.It's exquisite."

Aaron called from the kitchen, suddenly sounding very sly and mischievous. "You sure are going through a lot of hell to night." Smiling he poked his head into the living room. "What are you planning on doing tonight?"

I snickered. "It's nothing like that, Aaron. I owe 628 one for saving my ass from the Grand Councilwoman. When she walked through the door with all those soldiers I nearly had a heart attack. It was brutal."

"No," Aaron said. "After she left, watching you tell the entire family how you escaped and how you lied. **That** was brutal." He then smirked and crossed his arms. "But seriously. What's going on between you and 628? Have you nailed her yet?"

"W-What!?" I said, nearly stumbling on the floor.

Aaron rolled his eyes. "I knew it. Looks like I owe Elvis five bucks. But seriously. Just do it already. Stop keeping the family in suspense."

I glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Aaron slumped his shoulder, again rolling his eyes. "Oh come on. It's obvious you two are digging each other. But why a chick that hot is interested in you beats the hell outta me."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dude. If you like the girl tell her how you feel. It's easy just say 'hey you, woman, you and me, bedroom, right now.' "

"I . . ." I pushed past Aaron and walked into the kitchen. "There's nothing to tell. 628 and I are just friends and nothing more. Why you all have us tied up in some sick fantasy in which we're a couple is not only disturbing, but it's also pathetic. You all need to fine something better to with your time."

"What, are you waiting for an alarm to go off!" Aaron exclaimed. "Want me to paint a frigging picture?! She's letting you cook her this big fancy dinner. There's gonna be booze and you'll probably be playing that fruity instrument. "

"The piano?"

"Whatever." Aaron rolled his eyes. "My point is she's practically opened the runway and she's flagging ya down. All you have to do is get your controls right and land the plane. Get what I'm saying?"

I frowned. "Yes. It's subtle but my tiny brain somehow managed to find the hidden meaning." I turned around and opened fridge, looking for a few supplies I could use for 628's dinner. "Your demented fantasy aside. I'm going to prove to you that my interest in 628 is totally platonic. She's an amazing female and I only want her for a friend and nothing more. I'm sure she feels the same way . . ."

"Fine," Aaron said. "If you're not gonna make a move, then can I?"

I didn't look up from the fridge, just kept on rummaging through cans of tuna and bottles of ketchup. "Do what you want," I said.

Aaron grinned a mile wide and smacked me on the back. "Thanks man. I just wanted to make sure you were alright with it. Cuz you know that problem I had? I was with this girl a few days ago; turns out, I'm totally cured . . . you sure you don't mind?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Aaron didn't seem so convinced.

_A few hours later . . ._

I spent the rest of the day slaving over a hot a stove. It had been a while since I had cooked something so lavish, but eventually I got the hang of it. It's just like riding a bicycle. It was hard work but it was all worth it when I saw the look on 628's face when I took off her blindfold and said "Dinner, is served." I had chosen to use 628's good china. It went well with the whole French cuisine look I was trying to pull off. The three courses were set on the table, each of them inside a silver tray with an ornate lid to hide their identities. She wouldn't know what she was having until she was done the course before. The wine was being chilled in a stainless steel bucket filled with ice—just like in the restaurants. I had candles lit, soothing music playing, no detailed was spared in preparation for this meal. It was going to be a night she would never forget. She didn't care much for the mussels but the moment she sampled my Veal her face lit up.

"Simon!" She said taking another bite. "This is amazing."

"Ah," I said coyly. "It was nothing really. I just threw it together. More wine?" I lifted the bottle and poured some of the clear gold liquid into her glass. Thanking me, she raised the glass to her mouth, took a sip, and swished it around in her mouth.

"Alright," she said after swallowing "Never a big fan of wine but this is pretty good. I should have you cook for me more often."

If she loved the meal then I knew she was just going to die for dessert. After I cleared her plate; I removed the lid from the tray and 628 was ecstatic. As she watched I poured a little bourbon into the Cherries Jubilee, struck a match, and dropped it into the dish. There was a bright blue flash. 627 watched, awed as the flames died down. I cut her a piece and placed it on her plate along with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (Which I made myself). I sat at the far end of the table and watched her eat. She was a rigorous eater but never once forgot her table manners. It was endearing to watch her nibble on each bite. When she was finished, I cleared the table, washed the dishes, and the two of us sat in the living room with nothing but each other for company. We sat on our ends of the sofa. I was flattered again and again by the wonderful things she kept saying about my cooking. It's nice to hear every now and then. Who knows. Maybe I would cook for her again.

"Honestly, that cherry jubilee was the best I've ever had." 628 smiled at me. "You are an _amazing_ chef."

I grinned a little, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly. "It was nothing really."

Frowning, 628 eyes suddenly became dark. I asked her what's was was wrong, but she shushed me. Outside I could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. "Do you hear that?" She asked.

"The thunder? Yes I hear it. They were calling for a storm this morning on the weather channel." The look on 628's face told me she wasn't too excited by the idea of the storm. "What's wrong with you?"

"I . . ." Her eyes flared orange and all over the house I heard the sound of windows slamming shut. "I just don't like storms." She stared into the dinning room and a couple of candles floated in and landed on the table. She blinked and little orange flames bloomed on their blackened flints. "These are just in case the power goes out." She told me.

628 was right. By the time nine o'clock rolled by—the rain was pounding down on the windows like lead pellets. And this wasn't just some light drizzle; this was like hurricane weather. If the rain hit the glass pane any harder I was sure they were going to crack. Thunder crashed and lightning lit up the sky. The wind blew so hard the house creaked and groaned as if it were in pain. The only light in the living room came from the two candles 628 had placed on the coffee table before the storm had started. The tiny little flames cast the living in orange light. It was soothing to look at. I was reminded of how they used to live in the old days. With nothing but each other to keep them warm and nothing but withering candles to light the way. Fifteen minutes into the storm I suggested we should brave the weather and try to make it to Lilo's. My father must have been going out of mind with worry. In my head I kept seeing this tiny little house blown away by the gales and sent rolling right into the ocean. Storms never bothered me, but 628's constant fidgeting was putting me on the edge. The stubborn female absolutely refused to go outside. I guess she was a little more afraid than I thought—just too proud to admit it.

628 and I sat quietly in her darkened living room. The candles had been burned all the way to tiny little stubs. There was a loud boom off thunder, 628 screamed and grabbed onto my arm. I couldn't help but grin. Here was the great Experiment 628, tough, hard as rocks and afraid of a little thunder. When another bolt of lightning lit up her living room. I felt her nudge closer to me. In some way my presence was reassuring to her. There was no power. The electricity had been knocked out by the storm. We had nothing but conversation to keep ourselves busy. There's something almost magical about talking in a storm. It's like the one place where you feel free enough to express your darkest secrets. I kept picturing us as wild animals, huddle together in trees, alone and afraid as the the storm raged around us.

"I hate tropical storms," 628 said cuddling up to my side. "Every time I hear someone call Hawaii paradise I just want to punch his face in."

I smiled. "It's alright. It'll be over soon."

"Aaron asked me out today." She said, looking up at me to see my reaction.

"Did he?" I asked.

"Yeah . . . I turned him down."

"Why?"

"Well . . ." She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Aaron's a really great guy but he's **so** immature. He spends most of his time watching those dumb old cartoons. And not to mention he's a little . . ."

"Stupid?" I offered.

"Simple," 628 corrected. "I was going to say simple."

I grinned. "Sure you were."

628 smiled a little herself. It was nice to see her smile. "It was just so weird. Seeing him there, asking me out on a date. I felt bad when I had to say no. But he bounced right back. I think he'll be fine." She then sighed. "I'm going to die alone."

I looked down at her. "No you're not." I said. "One of these days you're going to meet a male who will make all of your dreams come true."

628 scoffed. "Tell me where to sign. All the good guys are either taken or gay. You know Yaarp? Word around the island is he's seeing Felix." She laughed a little. "Now there's a match made in heaven right?"

"What about Elvis?" I suggested. "He's always liked you."

628 punched me lightly on the shoulder. "Oh yes, he's a real knight in shining armor." 628 then looked around the living room, making sure there was no one else to overhear. "Can you keep a secret?" She asked me.

I nodded my head.

"Alright," she said bringing her voice down to a whisper. "Bonnie's pregnant."

My ears shot up. "What!?"

628 was ecstatic at sharing this little bit of gossip. She confirmed it with an enthusiastic nod. "I know right. She hasn't told Elvis yet. You're going to be an uncle."

"W-when did this happen? When did you find out?"

628 inclined her head, staring at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Well when you mate constantly without using protection. These things are bound to happen." She lifted the bottle of Dom Pérignon from the coffee table and took a long swig. "Bonnie told me yesterday when she came over for coffee. We talk a lot. I'm one of the only friends she really has." She took another sip from the bottle. "Wow, for old wine this stuff really has some kick to it." Gingerly she shook the bottle.

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you drank so much."

628 lowered the bottle and shook her head. "No. I always drink when there's a storm. It helps take the edge off."

I took the bottle from her and poured myself a glass. I had a soft spot for wine myself. I took a small sip and then set the glass down. The news that I was going to be an uncle didn't have as much of an impact on me as I thought. I just hoped I was there to see it when Bonnie told him. I could already see the devastated look on Elvis' face.

_Serves him right for the way he treats her._

Thunder crashed and 628 jumped, again clinging on to my arm. Leaning forward I picked up my glass and took another sip of wine. Through the window I could see the black storm clouds rolling by. Accumulating into massive thundering masses. The rain was so thick I could barely see through it save for the brief moments when the entire clearing was illuminated by lightning. As time went by the wine began to flow. 628 and I kept talking, mostly to distract her from the storm. Not that I was complaining. I sort of enjoyed having a female pressed up against me, nervous and agitated. Over the next few hours I began to feel lightheaded and woozy. I think it was the wine. I was never a heavy drinker so I was a little more susceptible to intoxication than most. I don't remember much of what happened that night. Even today it's all a blur. There were shapes and movements. Blurred motions as if I were staring at them through a dizzy fog. Lightning and darkness as the last of the candles burned away . . .

* * *

**Alius111: **Well, another chapter down. Believe it or not this fic is actually nearing the end. I estimate maybe thirty-five chapters . . . probably less. Some very big things are going to be happening in the next chapter. Bonnie will reveal that she is pregnant, Elvis will once again make a move against 628, and Simon will finally go through with his plan of revenge against Elvis. What will bring this on? I'm afraid your just going to have to wait and see.


	24. The Storm Approaches

**Alius111: **I know I said Simon would go through with his plan to kill Elvis . . . but I recently realized that not only would it not work, but it would open up a major plot hole. I'm very sorry, but it can't be done. But don't worry, I've decided to cut out some of the more useless parts and get right to the juicy stuff. I think I've kept you all dangling long enough. From here on out, the plot is moving forward and the action is going to start. I estimate this story will now only be 32 chapters. It's funny. If I didn't cut useless stuff out this story would of ended up being 40 chapters—which is way too long for me. After all, the immortal Stephen King did write "The final draft of your story is draft one minus 10 percent. Cut out the bullshit, and murder your darlings."

* * *

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**The Storm Approaches**

I awoke the next morning feeling a soft, warm lump pressed up against my side. Opening my eyes, a miraculous sight greeted me. 628 was lying next to me on the couch, fast asleep. Scrunching my face, I yawned and stared down at the sleeping female at my side. What was she doing here? I spied the bottle of wine left on the coffee table. It was empty. I groaned and reached up, placing my palm carefully on my forehead. I had a killer headache. I believe people refer to it as a hangover. While I was in agony, 628 seemed completely at ease. I watched her in silence for a while. I never saw her asleep before this moment. She looked so serene . . . so peaceful. She took little breaths from her slightly parted lips. Her chest slowly rose up and down. In the morning light her fur was bright and sheen. It was like watching a rabbit or a kitten sleep. I smiled and closed my eyes. What did it matter if she slept next to me? It was nice waking up to something warm. But then . . . a startling thought occurred to me . . . I couldn't remember what we did last night.

My eyes sprang open. Careful not to wake her I sat up, my mind now alert and sharp, desperately grabbing through the hazy fog for the elusive details of the night before. What exactly did we do last night? I tried to remember, but the hangover was like a constant railroad spike pounding into the back of my skull. My memory was nothing but a wispy fog—the booze being the catalyst. Again I looked down at 628, so calm and so quiet. It would be a shame to wake her. Did she remember anything about last night? Just how drunk did we get? I had never been intoxicated before in my life . . . I sincerely hoped she didn't do something she would regret once she awoke from her easy slumber—hell I hope I didn't do anything **I** would regret. Why else would she be lying next to me? A terrifying thought struck me and it was like a painful jolt in this calm morning. What if we did mate . . . but that wasn't the worst part . . . what if I accidentally impregnated her!?

Teeth clenching, I buried my face in my hands, hating myself. But wait . . . I looked up, a new blissful relief coming over me. There was no cause for alarm. I shouldn't worry unless I was sure. There was no way 628 would ever mate with me—drunk or not. I didn't feel any different. I was sure I'd be tired or would feel some sort of satisfying tingle. Yes, I was certain now, even if it was just so I wouldn't go crazy with worry. 628 and I didn't mate last night. We were just knocked out from all the wine we drank. That Dom Pérignon was from 1938. It was powerful stuff. Yes, it was decided. 628 and I did nothing—nothing! But even as I tried to convince myself; Aaron's words from the day before rang through my head.

"_Have you nailed her yet?"_

I gulped. "N-No way." I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know now. Gingerly I reached out and shook the sleeping female. Her face scrunched up and she groaned, turning away from my hand. I shook her again. "628," I whispered. "Wake up." Nothing. Not even a whimper. She was a real heavy sleeper. Using my claws I gave her ear a pinch and said—a little more sharper this time, "628. Wake up. It's morning." Again. Nothing. She was like a rock. But possibly a pregnant rock so I couldn't give up. I grumbled and smacked her side. "Get on up there woman! Yee-Haa!" She moaned but didn't wake. I was persistent. Leaning forward, I whispered into her ear. "You are an object. A fickle play thing built for our amusement. Your purpose it to cook, clean and please the men. Females have no rights or power." When she didn't respond I plopped my head against the cushion. I really thought that was going to work.

Just then, 628 moaned and rolled away. "Say that again Simon and I'll rip your nuts off and craft them into wind chimes."

I smiled. "Up?" I asked.

She nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah . . . more or less." A loud yawn escaped her mouth. Her fist then pressed against her forehead. "Dammit my head is **killing** me!" She said. "I haven't had a hangover this bad since last Saint Patrick's day . . . Aww, Simon! That's disgusting!" She was bent around, looking down near my legs.

"What? . . . Oh no, wait," I reached between us and pulled out a black rectangle with an assortment of buttons on its face. "It's just the stereo remote." I chuckled.

"Oh." She got up and stretched her back. "Sorry."

I shrugged and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. "Not a problem . . . hey, 628," I added. "We didn't . . . **do** anything last night. Did we?"

628 stretched her arms, flexing them as if she were being crucified. I heard her neck snap, and cringed. "Sorry to disappoint you Stud," she said, collecting the empty wine bottle and glass. "But I just had a little too much to drink and passed out."

I smiled to myself, inwardly relived but also feeling a little indignant. I scoffed at her comment and waved it away as if her and I mating was the most revolting idea on earth. "Don't apologize," I told her. "I was just wondering if I had to get in the shower and wash your stink off me."

She looked back at me, a sarcastic eyebrow raised. "Oh hardy-har-har. You are just so **hilarious**, Simon. A moment while I stitch my aching sides back together."

I grinned and watched her back as she ambled into the kitchen. The sound of running water and clanking glass traveled into the living room. My head was throbbing. The sounds of the bottle being dropped into the trash can were magnified and augmented to cannon fire. I grumbled and pulled my ears down, cursing my sensitive hearing. I was only thankful my hearing wasn't as good as my father's. Otherwise I concluded my head might just explode. After 628 had finally ceased that infernal racket, she joined me in the living room carrying two steaming cups of coffee. Mine black with two sugars, hers with cream and a dash of cinnamon.

"Here."

I thanked her and accepted the cup, taking a generous sip before it even had a chance to cool. I regretted it immediately when it scolded my throat. But I didn't care. I needed the caffeine. 628 sat next to me—but not too close I noticed—and drank from her cup. I cringed. The sort of way you cringe when someone runs their nails along a chalk-board. 628 made this terrible slurping sound every time she took a drink. To me it was like the hounds of hell tearing at my ears. I just hated that sound. When she went to take another drink, I leaned forward, hand outstretched, and placed my paw over her cup.

"Could you not do that." I said. "It's irritating me."

Setting her cup down on the table, 628 sighed. "You're such a girl," she said irritably.

"Well at least one of us is."

She smirked. "Nice comeback."

I smiled and took a sip from my coffee. "Thank you. I thought so too."

* * *

An hour and a half later, after 628 had gone out to do her daily gardening; I found myself sitting in front of my supercomputer, intercepting a message from across the galaxy. The laboratory was dark. The only light was the ghostly glow of my computer screen. Leaning forward in my chair, I sighed and tried to calm myself down. The message was encrypted which only meant one thing. But after I tried to open it, I discovered something very interesting. It wasn't a message after all. It was a communication.

Fletcher's massive and rugged face suddenly appeared on my screen. I smiled and waved at him. He nodded his head in return. Funny, he was just as I remembered him from prison. Huge and muscular, dark blue skin, four eyes with a metal plate fused over one of them. I remembered his infamous story about how his wife had gouged his eye out in his sleep. But he looked older than I remembered. That flare in his eyes had been replaced by deep sorrow and sleepless nights. There were dark shadows under his eyes, giving him the appearance as if he had just risen from the dead. He was paler too, like he hadn't seen the sun in weeks. I wondered what could make such a rock hard man like Fletcher look so . . . unsettled.

"Kid," He said in his gruff, baritone voice. "Where the hell have ya been? We've been expectin' ya for the past days n weeks. The snatch on earth can't be that good." He reached off screen and pulled out a massive tankard filled with some dark liquid. He threw back his head and downed the drink in one massive gulp. He then threw it over his shoulder and stared at me, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry, Fletcher," I said. "I've been held up. The situation has gotten much more complicated."

Fletcher used a filthy rag to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His eyes were red and bloodshot like he had just been crying. But I knew better. Whatever he drank was powerful stuff. No doubt he would be on his ass a moment after this communication ended. "What's happenin," he asked through his massive fingers. "Tell me." Leaning forward he produced another tankard and began chugging it like it were poison. When I told him the Grand Councilwoman found me here—he did a spit take and nearly fell from his seat. "God dammed shit on his throne!" Fletcher yelled, trying to regain his balance by clutching the sides of the table. "That fiery bitch found ya there n here you are, talkin' to me. How'd you get outta that one?"

"A friend helped me out," I told him. "Don't worry. I have everything under control."

Fletcher huffed. "My shit-stained ass you do. You shoulda got your furry little ass down here weeks ago. I sent ya the coordinateness."

I nodded. "I know. I know. But Hamsterviel hasn't made his move yet. I need to wait this out as long as I can. The Grand Councilwoman has been temporarily taken care of, but there are still forces closing in on me. Don't worry. Hamsterviel **will** come for Experiment O. So far everything has gone as planned. You got me out of prison and now I'm home, ready to wait for that deranged little freak to come. By the end of the month—or the end of the next—Experiment O will be safe and Hamsterviel will be no more . . . as we agreed."

Fletcher slammed his fist down on his desk, causing bottles and empty jugs to go crashing to the floor. "Shit, Kid, Hamsterviel doesn't even know you're there."

"That's why when my staying here has finally become an inconvenience, you will **tell** him I'm here if you have to. You still have that mole in his operation. Me and Experiment O in the same place . . . he won't be able to resist. Besides," I added. "I have unfinished business on earth."

"I don't know, this is gettin' tight, Kid." Fletcher said, worried. "Alotta this doesn't sit right with me. You should just grab that Experiment thing and get yer ass down here."

I sighed and shook my head. "No. Then all of this would have been for nothing. There's someone here that needs my full attention before I can leave. You just need to be patient . . . besides, well, there's this female I'm living with—"

"Ah, Kid!" Fletcher yelled. "You need to stop thinkin' with yer dick! And get some damn work done over there!"

"It's not like that," I said, perhaps a little more sharply than I intended. "The situation is a little more . . . complicated than that. This plan is dangerous I know that. For it to work out Hamsterviel will eventually have to attack earth and well . . . I just don't want her to get hurt."

Fletcher scoffed. He was sweating so much now he was drenched. He swayed and staggered in his seat like he had a concussion. His eyes were red like scarlet and were drooping. It was a miracle he was still awake. "Whatever . . . just do what ya need then broom her fast. You gotta a job to do."

I nodded. "I know . . ." A long silence stretched on between us. As we waited Fletcher seemed to become more and more out of it. More than once he broke into song and fell from his chair. I wondered if he would even remember this conversation in the morning. But then, a question suddenly occurred to me. "Fletcher," I asked. "Do you have any information regarding the transmission I sent you last night?"

Fletcher snapped back up like an elastic, suddenly alert. "I found a little, but it was like tryin' to find rain in a shit storm. We don't know who the bastard is who went n killed yer uncle and made a snack outta his face. We only know whoever done it was workin fer Hamsterviel and he was after . . . you."

I closed my eyes, pained. So he did die because of me. I suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over me. Not just because Reuben got caught in Hamsterviel's demented plot to capture me . . . but also because I hadn't told my family he was dead . . . I should have told them.

"This . . ." I began, but was unable to finish the sentence.

"I know." Fletcher said. "I'm sorry Kid."

I nodded, using my forearm to wipe the moisture from my eyes. "It's alright . . . thank you Fletcher. At least you found out something. I appreciate it . . . .and as for, _Hamsterviel_." I gripped my fists so tight my claws bit into my palms. "I . . .

"We'll help you get him Kid," Fletcher told me. I looked up at him, thankful. "Just remember when all o this is done . . . we'll be there to pick you up and you better haul ass. And just remember who helped you out when yer over here with me." Fletcher dropped a single sausage like finger down on a button and my screen suddenly went black. I was left alone, in the darkness, with nothing but the simmering hatred I had for Elvis to keep me company. My thoughts of revenge pooled in my head and washed over me. The dam had finally broken. I realized I was running out of time. I wouldn't be here much longer . . . now things had been set in motion, things that couldn't be undone. If I was going to kill Elvis . . . I had to do it soon. But what was I supposed to tell them? I realized my plan to disguise myself as 628 wouldn't work. How would I explain Elvis' miraculous disappearance? That's when it hit me. I _could_ kill Elvis . . . but only after Hamsterviel was here. After my plan had come to fruition . . . Elvis would be mine. Experiment O would be safe. Hamsterviel would be dead . . . Then I could make my escape.

* * *

It was sunset. And of all places I found myself sitting on the white bench. The very same bench Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, was said to have set his legendary behind on. When I was younger I used to come here to be alone and to think. I hadn't been here once since I returned to earth. Now I remembered why. Around me the clearing was silent but for the whispers of nature. The cool, tropical breeze blew through the lush palm trees and shrubs, whispering. Birds, the kind you would only find in Hawaii, cawed and sang their songs. I knew these sounds. Yes. I've heard them before. I've seen that sunset before too. The sun was a blazing orange disk on the horizon, its light nothing but burning fragments on the ocean's shimmering surface. The waters were a dark, murky blue at this late hour. Just looking at it filled me with calm and warm reassurance. I don't know if It was the tranquility of nature or the sounds the waves below made when they crashed against the side of the cliff, but this place always managed to put me at ease. I used to run to this place when Aaron, Elvis and Presley would beat me up. This place used to be my escape, but now there was something festering beneath the calm and peace it offered, something dark and rotting. I knew what it was. Bad memories. This cliff was also where Acervus had chased me down, where he had captured me. This cliff was where Elvis had tried to murder me, knocking me over the side and into the sea, hoping I would drown or be splattered on the rocks. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the memories. I would rather think of 628. When I pictured her in my mind my heart began to run a marathon. I opened my eyes and looked out past the dark murky waters and the smoldering fragments of the sun's light . . . what was happening to me?

Just then, a memory came to me. About a week after I had arrived on earth, 628 and I had gotten in an argument. In a rage I had stormed from the house and sought refuge at Lilo's. Although it was a while ago . . . the memory rang like a bell.

_Four weeks ago . . ._

_Angrily I stormed into the kitchen, slamming the back door behind me. Curiously Aaron looked up from his breakfast, sending me a confused look._

"_What's wrong with you?" He asked._

"_It's **her!**" I yelled, throwing open the cupboard and snatching a box of cereal. "I hate her! 628. I **loath** her."_

_Aaron sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not this again." Shaking his head, he looked down and continued eating, ignoring my cries of anger._

"_Yes, this again," I threw the box of cereal across the kitchen. When it hit the wall the lid burst open, spreading Lucky Charms all over the tiled floor. "I can't stand her."_

_Aaron sighed and dropped his spoon. "What did she do now?"_

_I growled, angrily pacing around the kitchen as Aaron fallowed me with his eyes. "She thinks she's so smart. I have an IQ larger than some galaxies and she has the pompousness to act like she knows everything."_

_Aaron smirked and stared hard at me. "Yeah, I hate it when people do that. It's not like anybody **I** know does do that." I couldn't help but notice he was nudging his head in my direction._

"_Oh and she's so conceited," I went on, ignoring my brother. "She's always like 'oh look at me, look at me everyone! I'm so good looking and I'm better than everyone. I'll crush you **all **beneath my conquering feet and overwhelming superiority!'" _

_Aaron looked up from his bowl, and suddenly, a knowing look came over his face. Funny. It was the wisest I've ever seen him look. "You **like** her don't you." It wasn't a question, but a curt statement. I hated how sure of himself he sounded. _

"_What!" I yelled. "Don't be ridiculous. How could I possibly have feelings for that timid little shrew?"_

_Aaron chuckled and jumped down from his chair. "Because you've done nothing but talk about her the past two days!"_

"_That's not true."_

_Aaron rolled his eyes in that oh-please-I know something you don't-way. "I've seen the way you look at her, Man. Just tell her how you feel."_

"_I . . . there's nothing to tell."_

_Aaron crossed his arms and smiled slyly. "Riiiiiiiight." _

"_Trust me," I said. "I have no attraction to 628 whatsoever . . ."_

_Present . . ._

Frowning at the sun, I leaned back on the bench, staring deep into the sky. The expanse was wide and painted a bright shade of light pink which steadily dissolved into a sky blue the farther it got from the sun's light. There were wisps of clouds. They were pink too. A human looks up at that sky and wonders what's beyond those clouds. They dream of flying up and reaching past the stars. Well . . . I've been past those clouds and have seen past those stars. I know what's beyond there. The same darkness. You find it wherever you go. There's no more truth in the Federation than there is here, on this planet, on Earth. At least here I have family . . .

From behind me there came a noise. The sound of rustling grass. My ears perked up. I looked up and turned around, craning my neck to see over the backrest.

"Oh, sorry," 628 said, taking a step back. "I didn't know anyone else was here."

My ears dropped. "No, it's alright. I just came here for a little peace and quiet." Waving my hand, I beckoned her over. "I could use some company."

628 smiled a little. I liked seeing her smile. It was nice change from the usual bitter sarcasm and the ever-present scowl she wore like a cheap mask.

Slowly, taking to time to appreciate nature, 628 began to walk across the clearing, stopping to look at a growth of orchids. I pushed over, making room for her on the bench. Brushing a few broken paint chips aside, she jumped onto the bench and sat next to me. We sat in silence for a moment. I wasn't complaining. The quiet was nice. Just her presence was comforting. I wonder if all company in solitude feels like this.

"It's nice here," 628 said, admiring the view. "I like to come here sometimes . . . to think." She looked around, and seemed to be awed by the sunset. "I like the quiet. It's like one of the few places you can go when you just want to be alone. Everywhere else is always crowded by tourists."

I smiled. I knew exactly what she meant. I looked down and tapped on the bench. "You know," I told her. "They say Elvis Presley himself sat on this bench. Lilo told me about this place. She came here once . . . years ago with my Father." I laughed a little. "They were trying to make some hula dance. They thought they would be inspired by the spirit of Elvis if they sat here."

She laughed too. "That _is _funny."

Looking out to sea, I put my hand down on the bench—but quickly pulled it back when mine accidentally brushed hers. "Oh . . . sorry," I said.

She smiled, but just a little, and placed her hand on her lap. The silence that fallowed was terrible. It was the strangest thing. I found myself peeking out the corner of my eye every few seconds to see what she was doing. Sometimes 628 would be looking out at the ocean, her eyes a fiery orange from the sun's glare. Or, like me, she would stare up at the sky, counting the clouds as they rolled by. It's true when they say for some moments there are no words. Still. I felt compelled to say something. On my last peek I nearly jumped. She was looking right at me. I tried to look away, but in the awkwardness of the situation; I felt I could look nowhere but at her. Right into her eyes. Finally after an instant I managed to tear my gaze away to the ocean, but her eyes still burned into my mind. In the fiery orange light they almost seemed to glow. It was strange. I never noticed how . . ._ luminous_ they were. When I looked back, she wasn't looking at me anymore, but out to sea, yearning, like something lost.

"Nice view," I said quietly.

"Yeah . . ." she said. "It is." She looked back at me. We stared at each other. Our eyes met. It was electric. "Why are you staring at me?" She asked.

"I . . . I'm not." Not the smoothest of answers. But it was all I had. What was happening? Was the world between us suddenly shrinking? No. I was moving closer to her, edging across the bench, never looking away from those big black eyes. I seemed to float out of my body, but my mind was anchored down by the intensity of the moment. I felt butterflies flying around in my stomach. My heart raced. My chest tightened. But still I moved closer, unsure what was happening. I don't think she knew either. She was starting to move closer too—that same intense look on her face she always got in the most heated moments. I was counting them. The inches between us. They were shrinking, growing smaller. The rest of the world seemed to die around me, wiped out by the anticipation and spontaneity of the moment. It was just her, and me. And I still didn't know what was happening. I was just drawn in. I began closing my eyes when she started to do the same. I could feel the heat pulsating from her body. The fire. It would burn us both. My eyes closed, and all the world was darkness. I felt our lips press together. Skin on skin. Fur on fur. It was brief but it was one of the most exciting and passionate moments of my life.

"Are we interrupting something?"

My eyes snapped open and we both leaped back a mile. Snapping my neck around, I gawked over the backrest to see Aaron and my father standing at the opening of the clearing. Both had their arms crossed and had big fat smirks across their faces. I grinned in spite of myself, feeling a little embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably. I felt like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing. Under my embarrassment was guilt. I hated how smug their faces were. I looked over at 628. She was looking a little red behind the ears herself. The intensity was gone. But the embarrassment was there.

"Hey," I said, nervous. "Wha—what are you guys doing here?"

My father was stifling giggles behind his paws.

"We came to get you guys," Aaron said, smiling a mile wide. "We're having a big supper back at the house."

"How . . . how did you know we were here?" I hated how it sounded. It was almost like I was implying we came here together for some privacy—which was not the case. I imagined thousands of the wrongs ideas were rushing through their minds. I really didn't like being caught in such an uncomfortable situation. I was still sort of at a loss. What just happened . . . were 628 and I . . . just kissing?

Aaron leaned over and whispered something into my father's ear. He burst out laughing and I scowled.

"Alright," I said curtly. "You two can leave now." 628 watched me strangely, suspiciously. "We'll be right there in just a few moments.

My Dad nodded and began leading Aaron out of the clearing despite his loud protests. As soon as they were gone—I forced myself to look at 628. It was agony. She had this look on her face like she had taken a wrong turn in a bad neighborhood. My ears dropped. Now I wished I had left with them. What was I thinking? I should have gotten out when I had the chance. What was she going to do now? Yell at me? Hit me? Why was she just sitting there? I decided it was best to make the first move. Better to get it over with quick and clean. Like ripping off a band-aid.

"Look," I began. "About what—"

"No," she cut across. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I . . . don't know what came over me." reaching out, she placed her hand on my shoulder, then pulled it back. "Lets just pretend it never happened. Okay?"

"Alright," I said, knowing it was for the best. I looked away, unsure what to say. I had this knot in my stomach like someone had in a steely grip and were slowly but painfully twisting it around. The butterflies were gone now, but a tight emptiness had taken their place. I felt sick with anxiousness. But was the other thing? Lust? I looked at 628, taking in her every detail. Her curves, her eyes, the light beige of her fur, the swell of her breasts. I gulped and looked away. No. Definitely not lust. At that moment I would have given anything to know know what she was thinking. It occurred to me that she _could_ know what _I_ was thinking, and was probably reading my thoughts right now, becoming more humiliated since my mind seemed to focus on nothing but her body. When she frowned, looking away. I just wanted to sink into the ground . . .

* * *

Hours later, late at night long after the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and the sky had become black and littered with stars. I was in 628's bathroom, standing on top of her sink, staring deep into my reflection. My eyes looked back at me. My father's eyes. I scanned my body. I was skinny but looked reasonably fit. My fur had a certain dark sheen and luster to it. Black and Grey. Not even colors. Black. No colors at all. Grey. A strange mix of light and darkness. A body covered with black fur with grey patches around the eyes and running up from the groin to my abdomen, up the chest and ending at the chin. My nose was large and bulbous—like my Father's. It too was a light shade of grey. I couldn't see them, but I knew there were also patches of grey on my back. I looked down. The tiny little stubs on my flat feet were grey as well. My claws, which were pointed, were black but not as dark as the rest of me. I couldn't stop looking at my reflection. It was almost as if I were hypnotized by it—entranced! It amazed me how much I looked like my father . . . especially my eyes. Everyone said I had his eyes. Those eyes were cold and hard, but they were also wise and intelligent. I wagged my little stub of a tail to see if it was still there. It was. The other Simon in the mirror gawked at me, accusing me. Looking away from the reflection, I turned my gaze to a little steel box which lay open next to the sink. Inside were six pristine surgical scalpels. They shone like silver but were in fact made of pure Simonanium. The first five were long stems with bumpy sides for gripping. The blades were straight and sharp—like any other scalpel—but the sixth . . . now the sixth was special. The blade was long and curved like a talon. Half of the blade—from where the stem ended to just up to the middle—was serrated. The rest was smooth and flawless. There was a small hole just above the serrated part; it gave it an air of menace. The tool looked sinister to me. A blood test confirmed it. It was the same scalpel I used to dissect Elvis when I was in the insane grip of Chemical 606. As I looked down at it with blank eyes, I wondered if I would be able to use it again . . . and was terrified of what the answer might be.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked my reflection. "Just . . . stop now. Forget Elvis and Hamsterviel. Let them go. Take Experiment O and leave tonight." My image in the glass offered no comfort. It could only mimic my movements and mouth along with my words. I felt myself lost in a dull grey fog, desperately reaching out for answers. None were coming. I growled, filled with hatred and remorse. I saw the guards I killed trying to escape from prison. I saw Reuben falling to the floor as I struck him in the back of the head. I saw the horrified face of the B.R.B's captain as I pressed the barrel of my plasma gun against her chin. Bringing my fist up, I brought it down in a blind rage and smashed the mirror to pieces. The other me fell apart in fragments of broken glass. My paws began to bleed. Turning around I snatched the box of scalpels, closed it, and exited the bathroom; determined to have the mirror replaced before 628 returned home.

* * *

When 628 returned home she found me sitting on the couch, a book in one hand and a cup of piping hot coffee in the other. She smiled at me—albeit a little awkwardly—and sort of moved past me, quickly stumbling into the kitchen as if she were afraid I might jump out and attack her. It was ridiculous of course. But my paranoid mind was working over time. Every time she looked at me I just naturally assumed she was loathing the very sight of my face. I didn't care. We both went on pretending that the kiss on the bench never took place. It was nothing really. We just got caught up in the moment. The nature, the sunset. Hell a homosexual and a lesbian would have kissed in those conditions. We had nothing to be worried about. When 628 entered the living room she actually looked excited. Smiling, she jumped onto her spot on the sofa, and looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what?"

628 gawked at me. "Don't you know what the date is?"

"The date?" The truth was: I didn't know. I was so caught up in all of my scheming and conspiracies that something as trivial as the date or time didn't even come into account.

"Today is the 29th of October you idiot. It's Aaron's and Elvis' birthday tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes and went back to my book. "I know what you're getting at 628 . . . and I don't care if it's my birthday."

"Why didn't you tell me you were born on the 31st?"

I glared at her over the top of my book. "Because I knew you would make a big deal about it."

"Well, duh!" She said flailing her arms. "You were born on Halloween. That's incredible! But I don't get it. I thought you were all one litter?"

I sighed, quietly set my book down on my lap, and looked at 628. "My brothers were born the night of October 30th. I was born the morning of October 31st . . . around sunrise."

"I _love_ Halloween!" 628 exclaimed happily. It's funny. She seemed genuinely excited "How come you aren't bouncing off the walls. It's your birthday in two days."

I glared at her. "Yes . . . but it's also the anniversary of my Mother's death. I don't have much reason to celebrate."

That seemed to dampen her spirits a little, but not by much. It was like throwing a soggy rag onto a roaring campfire.

"Oh," She said, sympathetic. "Sorry." She then perked right back up. "But aren't you excited? The costumes, the trick-or-treaters, the jack-o-lanterns." She squealed. "Ooh, I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it. Tomorrow we got a party to go to. You should get a gift for Aaron and Elvis—and yes even Elvis," she said when she saw the look on my face. In his defense she said, "he may be a jerk, but he's still your brother. And then, we can go get our costumes. Because the next day. Your Dad and Lilo are throwing a Halloween party for your birthday."

My ears raised a little. "They are?"

628 nodded. "Yes they are, so try and act surprised, and **please**—at least attempt to have a good time. It'll be your birthday. Don't look so melancholy all the time. It'll be a special day."

My Father was throwing a part for me? I had completely forgotten about my birthday. 628 was right. It was going to be a special day. This next birthday would mark the end of my maturation cycle. Up until that day I was a teenager struggling in an adult's world. But after Halloween I would be a full grown Experiment. I would be a boy who had lived to grow into a man. It was at moments like this which I began to feel nostalgic for my childhood, but I remembered it wasn't so great anyway. It was strange. The concept that I was going to be an adult—a full grown male—was difficult for me to wrap my mind around. My mind was always that of an adult; I guess my body finally caught up. Of course Elvis and Aaron would mature a day before I did, but that didn't matter. I was just a few hours behind. With my growth coming to its peak, I felt anxious as I stared down at the pages of my books. No one knew what would happen when a young experiment matured. My research led to believe that we experience a massive surge of hormones which can cause inexplicable changes in the body. I wasn't expecting some miraculous transformation, but something interesting would be nice. I looked over at 628, smiled a little, and decided it would be alright for me to enjoy my birthday.

* * *

**Alius111: **Another chapter down. As we near the climax of the story I feel my anticipation growing. The next chapter will be a very exciting one. Simon will have a birthday party . . . and who knows what might happene between he and 628. Only time will tell. I know this chapter came a little sooner than you are used to. But that's what you get when school is done and it's pouring rain. A shit load of free time.

Until next time, faithful readers.

R&R


	25. Something Missing

**Alius111:** Sorry about the long wait, I've had a serious case of writers block. But I weathered through . . . and only a few weeks late. Still, I'm pretty proud of this chapter.

Please Read and Review**.**

* * *

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Something Missing**

It was morning when I woke up. The kind of morning when you just wanna do nothing but lie there in bed for the rest of the day, letting your mind go to whatever you want it to. The sunlight streamed in through the window. I liked the feeling of the dawn's light, it warmed my fur. It reminded me of lying on a scorching rock, like the lizards do. In bed I felt nice and cozy, so comfortable wrapped up in those nice thick blankets. My head sunk into my pillow like lead. Trying to fall back asleep, I turned away from the light and buried my face in the mattress. Sleep wouldn't come. I was awake now but still too lazy to haul my ass out from under the covers. My mind—which still had its foot stuck in dreamland—was groggy and relaxed. I was vaguely aware that it was my birthday, and that my Dad would probably be up here any moment to drag me downstairs for his big celebration. It was something I would have looked forward to had I not been so comfortable. I could have laid there all day, soaking up the warm glow of the morning sun. I reached out with my paw, groping, and hit nothing but air. Bonnie was gone. Though my eyes remained closed my face contorted into a frown. I told her to never to leave the bed until I was awake. What if I wanted a little morning action? When you get to a certain age your right paw becomes a pretty pathetic companion in loneliness—especially when you have a nice hunk of female meat sleeping next to you every night.

_Looks like I'll have to teach her a lesson again, _I thought. I knew it was harsh but it was for her own good. She needed to know who was in charge. _I _made the rules around here and she had to fallow them without bitching or nagging a word. _I'm_ the man and _she's_ the female. I felt bad about hitting her sometimes—even when I knew it was for her best interest and completely in my rights as her mate. I hated to think that she might believe I actually enjoyed smashing my fist against her head. I didn't. But I did it anyway. Why? Because I cared about her. Sometimes it can hurt but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, and after today that wouldn't just be some metaphor people throw around as a clumsy way of encouraging someone.

After today I _would _be a man.

Suddenly I felt something wet fall on my face. My claws swung through the air, trying to hit whatever was dripping on me. I heard a giggle. When I opened my eyes I saw my Dad hanging from the ceiling on all fours, his tongue stuck out like a dead fish, dripping spit onto my face. When he saw that I was awake, he laughed, jumped down from the roof, and plopped onto my mattress with a soft whoosh.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!" he cried as he threw his arms around me.

_The same thing every damn year, I thought, irritated. _

Smiling, I sat up and managed to pry his arms from around my neck. "Morning, Dad," I said, patting him on the shoulder. He licked my face and I felt drown in spit. Hell, I felt _suffocated_. I might be a man now but I had a feeling that to my Dad, I'd always be that rambunctious little snot who threw garbage all over the kitchen floor when he was little.

I let him hug me one last time before dear old Dad ripped off my blankets, threw them to the ground, and practically dragged me out of bed, kicking and screaming. I howled and complained that I was too tired, that I wanted to go back to sleep, but he wouldn't stop bitching.

Eventually I rolled my eyes and caved. It was inevitable. Sometimes when that annoying little shit gave me this pouting look I couldn't say no. I tell you, if I hadn't come from his loins, I wouldn't put up with this shit. Still, I let him drag me out from the warm clutches of my mattress and onto the steely cold of the metal elevator. Funny, judging by how excited Dad looked you would have thought it was _his_ birthday, not mine.

The elevator lowered down to the lower level. It was a smooth ride down, as always. For my Dad it seemed to take an Eternity. When we finally stopped I breathed an inward sigh of relief. Any longer and I thought dear old Pops was going to fucking _burst_ from the anticipation. Waiting for us at the bottom were Lilo, Nani, Pleakley, Jumba, David, the little Kale, and a very tired looking Aaron. My younger brother was wearing this stupid looking paper crown with little plastic gems glued around the edges on his head like a Pope's hat. Lilo's handiwork I was sure, and imagine my surprise when I saw one in her hand for me . . . oh goody. Now the both us of got to look like a couple of jackasses. I accepted the crown anyway and placed it on my head without so much as saying a word. Looking around at the collection of faces as we all moved into the kitchen; I realized 628 was not around. I was a little upset. She didn't come to see me on my birthday. I was a little hard when I woke up—which thankfully went unnoticed due to my jeans. But now I had gone completely limp when I realized 628 wasn't there . . . talk about a shot below the belt, eh? But on the bright side—I took another quick look around to be sure—Simon wasn't here either.

The entire house was decorated with cheesy and tacky looking streamers in balloons. The balloons were like a sea of multi-color bubbles. Some were filled with helium and some were not. I laughed a little when my Father inhaled an entire balloon, making his voice sound even higher than it already was. Jumping onto his hands, he broke into a jaunty little tune which sounded disgustingly like _For he's a jolly good fellow. _The streamers were long strides of paper which covered the ceiling like vines in a jungle. It was almost too creepy to look at. It was like the kid's party from hell. There were large silvery banners with the words "Happy Birthday" printed across their faces in big bubbly letters hanging above every doorway. Aaron seemed to eat it all up—I think he'll always be a kid at heart—but I could do nothing but plaster a smile on my face and pretend like I was having a good time. They seemed to have worked hard and I didn't want to hurt my Dad's feelings. I sighed and took a seat in the kitchen as Nani handed out plates of hot dogs and ketchup chips . . . all the windows were opened and a cool Hawaiian breeze seemed to waft in right up from the beach. I wished my party were on Halloween like Simon's. I bet his part was going to be pretty cool—oh well—at least there were still presents. My eyes found a large pile of brightly wrapped boxes set on a table by the fridge. Strange . . . one of them was to me from Simon. I nearly stumbled over this. That little shit got me a gift? What sick demented mind game was he playing?

_Probably expects you to get him something now. I considered it. It seemed more likely than anything else. Then something else occurred to me. Nah, 628 probably made him. That girl's a real pistol. My mouth went dry. Just the thought of her and I was uncomfortably tugging at my crotch because my pants had suddenly become too tight. I smiled when I saw a box labelled "to Elvis from 628" Immediately hundreds of things flew through my mind. Hundreds of thing she could have gotten me for my birthday, and believe me, not many of the things running through my head came in boxes. _

"To Aaron Love Dad," I said. Raising the box to my ear, I gave it a little shack. Something inside jumbled and bounced around. It sort of sounded like wood and glass. What could it be? On our first birthday party—when I was just as baby—I had gotten into the presents and had ripped them all to pieces while screaming "Mine! Mine!" Although it was cute then. I doubted I could get away with it again. I chuckled at the thought. I was a little older now. Gently I placed the box back among the others. It's a weird thing when someone gets you something. I had to wonder if they actually put any thought into it. Looking one last time at the present from Simon, a curios expression came over my face. I had quarantined his gift at first, but now I was a little curios. I know I screwed with his life. I fucked it right up and I'd do it again. He deserved every last thing I threw at him, and my only regrets were that he didn't die when I pushed him over that cliff. So what did he get me? He knew my secret—he knew I tried to kill him—knew I was the one who attacked Lilo. So what did he get me? I didn't feel any remorse for what I did to Lilo either. I only felt bad that I had to walk around with a huge scar across my chest. But even worse . . . He was falling in love with 628—_my_ 628 . . . the girl who could make my pants tight . . .and she was falling for him. He was stealing her away from me! So—the question remained—what could he have possibly gotten me for my birthday?

"Hey, Elvis," a sharp Alabama voice came from the living room. "G'away from them presents, ya peeping moop."

I turned around and smiled a little. Bonnie was walking towards me, her bright green ass shaking a little back and forth. Now this was mine—_all mine_. She was small—almost the same size and shape as my Dad. Her fur was a bright green with a long stretch of yellow running up her stomach. She had two antennas on her head and rabbit-like ears. I remember with a little smirk that they twitch a lot when she sleeps. (What a turn-on.) She has big eyes—big dark blue eyes. The kind that light up even when it's dark outside and my window is closed. She has a dark arrow-like patches on her arms and legs, and a yellow v-shape stripe on her forehead. Just looking at her made me hot. Bonnie might not be beautiful like 628, but she was sexy. As she got closer I ran up to her and wrapped my thick, muscular arms around her thin waist. Although . . . she wasn't as thin as I remembered. As she pressed her head against my chest, purring a little; I took a moment to look over her shoulders and down at her back. Bonnie was really starting to fill out—she was putting on a little weight. Why? I shrugged it off. Whatever. I leaned closer to her and ran my tongue up her face. I knew she was much older than I was, but what did I care? I was nailing an older chick! If I were human I'd be a _god _to drunken frat boys everywhere!

"You better leave off bein' fresh with me," Bonnie said into my fur. She spoke in that thick, southern accent. It always managed to work my crank.

I smirked and ran my paws up and down her side, her fur was so soft and green. Closing my eyes, I breathed deep and took in her scent. It was a strong, spicy smell. A strange but enticing combination of spices, wheat, and motor oil. I wanted her now, and I could have her if I wanted to. She looked up at me, those big dark eyes staring deep into mine, and smiled. Two little fangs poked out from her upper lip. It gave her a sweet, kittenish kind of look. As she pressed her body against mine, she placed her hand on my groin. Slowly I began leading us back into the hallway. You know, it's funny, I think I just might love this older chick (then again I'd say I was in love with any chick who put her hand on my dick.) When we reached the elevator I checked to see if anyone one of them were watching before I brought us up into my darkened room. This was turning out to be one hell of a birthday, and something told me I was gonna like this gift.

Aaron and Elvis' party was—needless to say—dreadful. It was like the kids' party from hell. Those two seemed to eat it up—hell, Aaron walked around the house like he was the God dammed King of England—but I sincerely hoped my father would put my party together with a little more dignity—and perhaps a little more taste in mind. Jesus . . . there were rainbow streamers littering the roof, hanging overhead like the terrible canopies of jungle vines. Balloons were tied to every piece of furniture in some sort of mock statement of jubilee and celebration. There were large plastic blows like basins of poison water filled with an assortment of flavoured chips. There were holographic banners with the words "Happy Birthday" tacked above every doorway. On the stereo some hideous rock star screeched like a swarm of rabid bats. The whole time Elvis and Aaron paraded around the house wearing these ridiculous paper crowns with little multi-coloured gems drawn on them. Lilo's handy work I suspected. The only blight on this seemingly perfect day was the picture of Presley hanging on the wall, his bright cheery smile seemed to light up the room. When I looked at the picture I knew he should be here with us, celebrating his birthday alongside Aaron and Elvis. But he wasn't . . . . he was dead.

Something else struck me as odd on that exceptional day: my father. He seemed unusually . . . _happy_. Walking around the house, he never entered a room without a huge grin plastered on his face. He seemed unnaturally joyous and excited, almost like he was trying too hard. I knew the reason, of course, but I'd be an idiot to say it out loud. I knew this temporary euphoria he was experiencing was nothing more than just a deep-seeded denial, and all this smiling and hugging was just him overcompensating. It was obvious to anyone who had even a drop of reason and common sense that he was trying to distract himself from the fact that his beloved mate . . . my mother . . . died the next day. I could see it when I looked in his eyes. I saw it lingering behind that joyous glint, the sad trapped look of someone who knows his world is about to come crashing down. If it was bad today . . . I didn't even want to think of how it would be tomorrow . . . on my birthday. Better to let him live in his denial for the time being.

Nani was just handing me a plate of hot dogs when I heard 628's voice in my head.

"Hey," She said. _"What do you think of this party?"_

"Nothing special," I replied. _"Seems a little kiddish to me." _My face sullen_, _I took a large bit of my hot dog.

"_Yeah, no kidding," was her reply._

As I was about to say something, I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I turned around to see Aaron standing behind me. He had this grim and solemn expression on his face, like he had something troubling on his mind. I asked him what was wrong. Looking around, he checked to see if anyone was watching. Lilo and 628 were busy watching my Dad doing several towering push ups with his tongue, Pleakley and Jumba were doing some sort of humorous jig by the Stereo. I laughed when Pleakley did a pirouette. Once Aaron was sure the coast was clear he grabbed me by the shoulders and silently led me into the hallway.

"What's this all about?" I asked him as soon as were safely inside the bathroom.

Shushing me, he pressed his ear against the door. "Just a sec . . ." He nodded then faced me. Beneath the rim of his paper crown his eyes looked lost, like they were searching through the dark, trying to find he couldn't see. What could have him looking so troubled? "I got something to tell you," he said, almost in a whisper.

"What is it?" I asked. I tried not to sound too eager, but I couldn't help it. Whatever it was he wanted to tell me, it was big. My initial concern had been quickly replaced with a morbid curiosity.

"Well . . . today, I got something in the mail." He walked over to the bathroom sink, opened the cupboards, and produced a white envelope with the official seal of the Galactic Federation stamped across it. Opening the flap, he pulled out a slip of paper and held it out for me to take it.

"What's this?" I asked, taking the paper.

"Just read it," he said staring down at the floor.

I nodded and began reading the letter. "Aaron Pelekai . . . we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at G.F University of Art with a . . ." I read the last part over twice before I shouted it out. "A full scholarship!" I looked up at my brother. "Aaron, this is amazing. I didn't know you did anything creative."

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, I draw . . . and paint . . . and . . . stuff." Funny, he looked uncomfortable just admitting it.

I gawked at him before re-reading the letter a second time. When I looked at his face, he didn't seem happy at all. "What's the matter? You should be happy. Millions of people all over the galaxy apply to this university and the most they get is a cold rejection slip and list of other schools they might be 'more comfortable at.'"

Aaron frowned and said, almost too quietly to hear. "I'm not going."

I was flabbergasted. "What?"

"I'm not going," he repeated.

"Why not?"

Looking towards the toilet, Aaron dropped his head and shrugged, his eyes becoming dark and sad. "Dad," he told me. "I don't think he'll let me go."

I didn't know what to tell him. What could I of said? If I were in his skin and he in mine; I'm not sure what I would have done. I supposed he could just talk to Dad. He hadn't even asked him yet, and who knows—maybe Dad would let him, and even if he didn't: Aaron was an adult now (even though he didn't act like it) and was free to make his own decisions. I don't honestly believe our father expected his children to stay on Earth forever . . .

I tried to console Aaron as best I could. Eventually we reached an agreement that he would talk to Father and confront him about his wish to go to University and become an art student (it took some convincing, but I eventually persuaded him to go) he even took me up to his room and showed me some of his work—which he kept hidden in his closet—and WOW! After the first painting he showed me I was speechless. Such vivid color and rich detail. It was a portrait of what looked like a faceless man with a monstrous television looming over his head with two sinister mechanical arms clutching his scalp. The quality . . . I never would have expected it from him. Some others were sketches (most of them of the family and Aaron himself) but one really caught my eye. When Aaron caught me looking at it he smiled and placed the drawing in my hand.

"This is what I was going to give you for your birthday. So, Happy Birthday, Man."

I took the paper and looked it over, a smile coming over my face. It was a depiction of myself sitting on top a mountain of books leaning over in the classic position of the ponderer, looking as if I were in deep thought. On my head I wore what looked like those hats with the little tassels on the top, the kind teenagers wear at graduation.

"This is great Aaron . . . but," I leaned closer, squinting my eyes to get a better look at what was drawn in my hand. "Why did you draw me holding a gun?"

Aaron grinned. "I just thought it looked cool."

* * *

628 and I didn't bother staying for the rest of the party. Once the gifts were opened and the cake was cut; we said our goodbyes and quietly excused ourselves. On the way back home I showed 628 the drawing Aaron gave me, smiling as I handed it to her. She thought it was a riot. To show my appreciation, for his birthday gift I got Aaron a wide-screen T.V which I had delivered to his room. The look on his face when I showed him his gift, the pure joy, is an image that will stay for me for the rest of my life. I even was gracious enough to give Elvis a present. For my big brother I got a Gold Watch (It was fake, but he had no way of knowing, I wasn't about to waste money on a real gold watch for the likes of him) and a few pairs of pants courtesy of 628. He probably threw the watch away, but I didn't really care to tell you the truth. For all I cared he could choke on the damn thing. . . it would certainly save me a lot of trouble.

Later that very same night, 628 and I sat quietly outside on the back porch, looking up, staring deep into the starry sky. Her garden was black, the lanterns having been long extinguished so we could see the stars more clearly without the glare from the lamps. I could still see the dark outline of archway leading to the gazebo. I had to force myself not to look at it. My mind played tricks on me. Every five minutes or so I could swear I saw shadows moving around in there, watching us. I pushed these thoughts from my mind, labelling them as nothing more than wild fantasies and paranoia. If something actually _was_ lurking around in the dark—628's keen eyes would surely spot it . . . although—I looked over at 628—her attention was entirely on the stars. Who's to say she would see an intruder coming?

We spent the next few hours chatting over idle things. I was surprised how easily conversation flowed between us. When we first met it was so awkward and forced, like accidentally bumping into an ex-wife at the supermarket after a particularity _nasty_ divorce. But now we talked so smoothly it was like we had known each other all our lives. It was a pleasant thought, actually. I clung to it, and the more I thought, the more I realized I liked having her near me. Yes our personalities clashed drastically . . . she was a fiery, independent female with an affinity for nature and snide comments. I, however, was a cold, calculating scientist with deep emotional issues and inner turmoil—I was really more of the 'tortured genius' type. . . But still . . .

I looked over at 628 and couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. I wanted desperately to reach out and stroke her face, just to feel the softness of her fur . . . but what would that mean? I had to ask myself. How did I feel about 628? I was never really good at expressing affection, I was always in my cloistered little shell. If I did indeed feel anything for her . . . How could I possibly confess? For a brief moment I wished I had Elvis' confidence. If I were more like him I could just come out and say what was on my mind . . . The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. Thinking I wanted to be more like him—it repulsed me down to the very sinew of my body.

"Nice night, isn't?"

I jumped at the sound of her voice. She looked over at me, an eyebrow raised as if saying 'what's your problem?' I grinned a little, my hand nervously drumming on my leg. I said to her the only thing I could muster.

"Um . . . what was that?"

"I said, 'nice night, isn't it?'"

"Oh . . . yeah. I nodded my head and looked up at the stars, not wanting to look at her any longer than was necessary. "It is . . . a very nice night."

628 placed her hand on my shoulder. I got chills. "Simon," she said, concerned. "Are you alright? You seem a little jumpy?"

"Juh-jumpy?" I gulped. "What . . . what do you mean?"

Thankfully I didn't get a chance to hear her answer, because at that instant we were interrupted by Aaron when he suddenly jumped from behind the bushes wearing a white hockey mask. "BOO!" He screamed, wielding a bloody butcher knife.

I jumped a little but 628 down right screamed bloody murder. Shrieking, she clung to me and sent us both toppling over. Pushing her aside, I looked up at Aaron who was now peeking at us from under his mask. I couldn't tell how I knew, but I was certain underneath that cheap plastic mask, there was a _big_ smile on his face.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!" 628 roared. Immediately she was on her feet and in Aaron's face. Reaching up, she wrenched the hockey mask from his head and crushed it in her hands.

Aaron seemed un-fazed. He stared 628 down and simply shrugged, saying, "It's after midnight. Which means it's Halloween. I thought I'd come over and scare the shit out of you."

628 wasn't impressed, but I managed to find the humour in it and even allowed myself a hardy chuckle as I pulled myself to my feet. "Oh come on, 628, he was just teasing."

After I finally managed to calm her down, I felt safe enough to poke fun at the fact that when she screamed she practically attached herself to my side. She skilfully countered this by confessing—with a lie which retained as much water as bottomless cup—that she threw herself at me because just in case something did tried to kill us: she wanted to be near so she could throw me at the killer, giving her time to escape. I didn't buy it for a second—neither did Aaron for that matter—but we all had a good laugh. When it got late, Aaron said his goodbyes and 628 and I headed inside, ready for a good night's sleep.

I stood in the darkened kitchen for a moment, fidgeting nervously as I watched the moonlight stream in through the window above the sink and bathe 628's spotless floor in ghostly light. I felt 628 place her hand on my shoulder—just like she had before when we were sitting outside, before she bade me goodnight and headed for the hallway. Before she vanished around I corner I called her back, but immediately wondered if was the right thing to do. Oh well, too late to go back now.

"628," I said, taking a half a step forward.

Her head popped back into the kitchen. In the pale white light of the moon her eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark. Her fur had a gorgeous white sheen to it, like looking at marble through a dirty pane of glass. Even though it was dark, I could feel her eyes on me.

"Yes? What is it?"

For a moment I said nothing and there were only ours eyes meeting in the dark. I could feel our mental connection pulsating between us. I wondered if she was reading my thoughts. Wouldn't do her much good. My mind felt as dead as the words I had just spoken. I sighed and dropped my ears. "Never mind."

She looked at me weirdly before turning back into the hall. "Oh alright then. Good night."

The corner of my mouth tugged into a smile. I raised my hand and waved at her half-heartedly. "Goodnight," I whispered to the darkened kitchen.

No one was there to hear it but the steady, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator.

XXXX

I awoke the day of my birthday with little to no anticipation for my party. Actually, it was the first thing on my mind the moment I opened my eyes . . . but for some reason I didn't feel very excited at the prospect of a celebration in my honour. In sight of this seemingly happy day there was something festering underneath the happiness. Something dark and foreboding, like one day ripping up the floor boards to investigate an odd smell, only to discover your base boards have been infested with an endless field of toxic mould. I knew what is was, of course, everyone did. In my case, the mould festering beneath the floor boards was my mother's death. The thought of my mother filled me with dread. On this day, all those years ago, my Mom died trying to bring me into this world. I kept playing it over and over again in my head. I kept picturing how happy she must have been when she found out she was pregnant, and how excited she must have felt when she thought of finally becoming a mother . . . only . . . she would never be a mother—not for more than a few fleeting hours. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't true—I know it isn't true—but for some inexplicable reason, if only to mock me, the thought still creeps up from the darkest holes of my mind to sing its dark tune:

_You Killed Her!_

"No . . ." I whispered to the empty room. "I didn't."

The room didn't answer back.

* * *

I waited anxiously outside 628's bedroom door, eager to see her costume. She seemed rather excited when she stormed through front door with two very large shopping bags in hand. It was endearing to see how happy she seemed. Since we live in secrecy, Lilo had to go and purchase the costumes herself, and 628 was nothing but a trembling bundle of nerves until she returned. I had a look at my costume. It was decent enough. My last Halloween (which seems like an eternity ago) I dressed up as Albert Einstein. This year I was going to be the Phantom of the Opera. Very classy, eh? It was 628's idea to be sure. Personally, I didn't even want to dress up but she roped me into it. The costume itself wasn't very special. It consisted of a black suite with a long black cape lined with red silk. Of course I would have the fur on my head slicked back, and to top it all off: adorned on my face would be a very sinister looking half-mask which would cover the right side of my face. What can I say, happy birthday to me.

628's bedroom door opened. "Well, what do you think?"

I turned around and got a look at her. She wore a very tight, and very slimming, scarlet leather dress which perfectly hugged the natural curves of her body. It had a low-cut top which—in my opinion—didn't leave much to the imagination (not that I was complaining.) Expertly administered to her face was crimson lipstick and eye shadow, giving her the look of some sort of exotic dancer. She didn't seem at all self-conscious, in fact 628 looked rather proud of her costume. She looked beautiful, but at the same time a little trampy, like you might see her walking down the streets with a lustful smile and a feather boa wrapped around her neck.

I smiled and looked her up and down. "You look great, 628, but . . . why are you dressed as a prostitute?"

628 sneered, feeling a little offended. "I'm not a prostitute, you moron." She lifted her finger and pointed the small plastic headset attached to her ear. "I'm a pop star."

As she said this, a strange thought occurred to me. I thought back to when I was insane. Looking back on it now, I can barely remember, it's like trying to visualize the elusive details of a dream. I spent most of the time doped up on the Grand Councilwoman's drugs. A crack-head in desperate need of his fix. Thinking about my time spent in that horribly dark, cramped room, my tongue felt as heavy as my arms. I could feel my heart beating in my wrists, my legs, my chest, and behind my eyes. In one terrifying moment I feared for my mental stability. Sanity is such a fragile state of mind, easily broken—more like shattered. The good doctors of Prison Asteroid K-37 didn't so much help me back into sanity, like slowly lowering your child into the pool as you teach it how to swim, as they did force me into it with their medication, like giving someone a violent over the edge of a cliff and watching them plummet, hoping they hit the bottom. And what is waiting for them at the bottom? Why, sanity and peace of mind. The sinister after-effect of an even more sinister dose of anti-psychotics. And all It cost them was their soul. . .

I figured it would be insane for me to criticize her costume.

"Uh, Simon," I heard a voice miles away, hearing it was like looking at something blurred around the edges, something out of focus. But it pulled me back to reality. "Are you alright? You look a little out of it." It was 628's voice. I raised my head and looked at her. There must have been something troubling on my face because beneath her beige fur, I could see she had gone pale. "Maybe this party isn't such a good idea," slowly she reached out, slowly like a member of the bomb squad about to diffuse an explosive, and gently placed her hand on my shoulder. You had to be gentle after all. Wouldn't want the bomb to go off. Still, feeling her hand on me offered some comfort—made me feel real. With her soft touch encouraging me, I somehow managed to speak.

"No, no, don't be silly," I smiled but it wasn't very convincing. Not even to myself—or to 628 apparently. For her hand still remained on my shoulder. "You've been looking forward to this all day, and everyone worked so hard to put this together . . . I wouldn't want to disappoint them." I lifted my arm, even as I did so it felt strangely heavy, and patted away her hand. "I'll go put on my costume."

* * *

To put the last piece in place, Lilo wanted to have the party at night. It was the right time for a Halloween part, not the best time for a birthday, but who was I to complain? This was a special day after all. No sad faces. . . .At least that's what 628 told me.

When we arrived at the house, 628 insisted she go in first, asking me to wait just a moment before I stepped inside. The few, solitary minuets I spent waiting on Nani's front porch were probably the only time I would ever have peace of mind that night. It was cold and the skies were filled with dark stormy clouds (why is there always such bad weather on Halloween?) but still the moon managed to occasionally peek out from behind the clouds like a glowing, unblinking eye. To every person who looks up at the moon, its as if it is looking right at them, but I actually felt like it was staring at me. Around the house flew a fog of fireflies, like tiny little stars fallen from heaven. In the surrounding palm trees and fern bushes, I heard insects sing. It was an unsettling sound, like someone running their fingernails down a chalkboard. Even though Pleakley lived in this house, it was always kept in a perpetual state of disarray and chaos which refused to leave. The clutter-bug and made its home here and built itself a nice little nest. There were old paints cans scattered on the porch like little tin soldiers (most of them were either chewed up or bent into awkward shapes—my Father's handiwork no doubt) weeds grew out of the creaky old steps and at its base, where they spread out into neat little bushes. I could see Nani's little beetle car parked in the driveway. It almost looked like some massive steel animal, slumbering through the night, waiting to be awakened in the morning when Nani finally left for work. Yes, many thoughts ran through my head as I waited on the front porch. But my train of thought was suddenly thrown from the track when Lilo opened the front door just a little and bade me to come inside.

I stepped past Lilo and entered the house. With the lights turned off, the living room was as dark as a tomb. But I could feel other people in here with us, could hear them breathing.

I was nearly blinded when without warning, someone flicked on the lights, and I was bombarded by multiple shrieks of:

"SURPRISE!"

I'll admit I jumped a little—yes, even thought I knew it was coming. It's inevitable—like flinching when someone jabs their finger at your eye when you're not looking. What met me in the lighted house was a sea of smiling faces . . . well, more like a _puddle_ of smiling faces. No need to make it sound like more than it is. Every member of the family was there, waiting for me, all wearing Halloween costumes. Nani was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West, and David and Kale were so loyally outfitted to look like a pair her flying monkeys. Little Kale did looked cute with his tiny fur ears and plastic wings. Lilo was just beaming, but I couldn't discern what she was supposed to be. She wore an elegant wedding dress, stained with large red blotches of fake blood (or at least what I hoped was fake blood) and perched on her head was a tall black wig with parallel white stripes running down the front. She looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. When I asked, she informed me, with a gleeful smile, that she was Elvis' Zombie Bride. (my Father was the one dressed up as Elvis, naturally, the singer, not my brother, but that goes without saying) Jumba and Pleakley's first set of costumes (anyone who knew them would tell you they would be changing their costumes many time this night) wore matching outfits. I couldn't be sure . . . but I think Pleakley was dressed up as Jeannie and Jumba as Major Nelson, both from that old sitcom 'I dream of Jeannie.' It was funny watching Pleakley parade around in pink harem pants, and Jumba looking like he had just stumbled from Vietnam. The only people I didn't see at the party were Aaron and Elvis (though I was told they would be down later.)

As Elvis Presley sang from one of Lilo's records about the devil in disguise, 628 shepherded me around the room to see everybody, acting as if I were meeting them for the first time. One of the first things to catch my eye were the decorations. While they weren't as cheesy as the rainbow streamers, the long strings of paper ghosts and the glowing Jack-O-Lanterns, didn't exactly scream with the eloquence of taste. However, I was thrilled to see a spread of Nani's alien themed snacks laying out on the table. I loved her cooking—especially her 'alien-eyeball-dumplings.' But before I had a chance to sample one, my father came out of nowhere and embraced me in a bone-crushing hug.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON!" He cried, giving me a nice, gooey lick up the side of my face.

I smiled, quietly using the hem of my cape to wipe his saliva from my mask. "Thanks, Dad."

The next to come was Lilo who quickly joined my father in his embrace. "Happy Birthday slash Halloween," she said the word 'Halloween' in a deep, scary voice. "I like your costume."

I nodded, backing away from them before they had a chance to hug me again. The smile vanished from my father's face when he saw 628. He seemed perplexed—confused almost, like he couldn't quite figure out what she was dressed as. Then it dawned on him. "Hooker!" He cried in epiphany, pointing a single black claw at her.

628's shoulder's sagged. "I'm _not _a hooker! I'm a pop star! See the microphone?" She pointed furiously at the headset.

"Oh Cool!"

We all turned around as Aaron walked into the room. When I saw him I burst out laughing. Around his waist he wore one of those inflatable duck rings children wear when they're too young to swim. The duck had a big, cartoonish head with massive white eyes that seemed to fallow you wherever you went. He had nothing on his head except for a pair of ridiculously large violet spectacles with googly eyes dangling from the sockets by a pair of metal springs. Like a clown, he had a big smile on his face. He shouted the words again . . . or maybe for the first time. I couldn't be sure. I was so deep in my own thoughts I felt more like I were _floating_ through the room rather than walking. But I heard Aaron shout, heard it as clearly as 628's sharp response.

"Oh, cool!" Aaron cried, pointing a finger at the female standing next to me in her little red dress. "628 came as a hooker."

"I'm not a hooker! I'm a pop star!" Her response was immediate but fleeting. I could tell she was losing her will to fight. Who knows, maybe next time when Elvis came down dressed as Tarzan as he later would, he might point and cry at 628, yelling just as his brother had. Maybe 628 would just shrug it off time.

"Happy birthday, bro," Aaron said to me as he slung his arm around my shoulders in pure loving brother fashion. I couldn't help but note how the springs on his glasses jumped and bounced around as he did so. It was a weird trick. Every time I looked at him from the other side of the room; I would think his eyes had popped out of their sockets. I wanted to ask him if he would please take them off, but didn't get a chance to. Because at that instant the lights went out again, plunging the living room into darkness. A hushed silence came over everyone.

Then a light floated in from the kitchen, a dull orange light that flickered like a small camp fire. I thought of ghosts wearing suits of chains, walking into the room holding out one of those medieval style lanterns. Yes, that's what the orange glow must be, the lantern of a ghost. The glow got brighter and I thought; how appropriate would that be. It is Halloween, after all. What can I say . . . Happy birthday to me.

But it turned out not to be a ghost. It was Nani walking into the living room holding a large frosted cake in her hands. The orange glow I thought was the sinister light of some spectre's lantern, was actually the light from the birthday candles. I barely had time to grasp my error before the singing started.

"_Happy Birthday to you_

_Happy Birthday to you_

_Happy Birthday to you_

_Happy Birthday dear Simon_

_Happy Birthday to you."_

Nani lowered herself on to her knees and held the cake in front of my face. I looked up at her. She was smiling. The orange light from the candles cast dark shadows over her face. It made her features seem sharp and wavering in the dull glow.

"Make a wish, Simon," I heard Lilo's voice say from somewhere in the dark.

A wish. To have one wish. With everything going on in my life . . . it was hard to decide on one thing to wish for. I knew it was just a silly tradition but these birthday wishes were supposed to have some sort of special power, almost as if the collected happiness and cheering of all these people gave it a little something extra. I didn't believe in such things . . . but that didn't stop me. I decided on something and thought:

_When this is all over . . . I wish everything turns out alright in the end. Not for me, but . . . I looked around at the collection of smiling faces I couldn't quite see in the dark. But for them. _

I inhaled, held the breath for a moment, and then blew out the candles.

Once the cake was cut and everyone was sitting around the kitchen table, smiling, laughing and talking. Lilo announced it was time for presents. An excited calm came over everyone as I was handed the first from a pile of brightly wrapped boxes. I looked around at my family's anxious faces. They seemed happy enough. I lifted up the tag. It said "To Simon, From Jumba," I found Jumba's face in the crowd. He was egging me on.

Using my claws, I shredded the wrapping-paper and opened the box. Inside this box was another box. But this box was made of steel and had a big hazard sigh on the lid. I smiled. "Oh, Jumba," I said. "It's just what I wanted," my smile grew wider as I read the label. "Plutonium. How did you know?"

Jumba shrugged. "I had a hunch."

The next gift was from my father and was probably the most meaningful. It was a hardcover book with a picture of a lost little duck on the front. It's binding was a little charred at the edges, but that's how I knew how special it was. I looked to my Dad, thanking him as sincerely as I could, and was delighted when he pushed through the crowd and embraced. This time I didn't just let my arms hand dead at my sides; this time I lifted them and hugged him back.

From then on I just flew through the rest of the gifts. From Nani and David—and little Kale of course—I got a new surfboard. It was old and beaten up yes, but I knew it was all they could afford, and I loved it just the same. From Pleakley I got something called a WONDER-MOP! I remember him telling me something about how it would pick up more than half of the dust and grime my old broom left behind. (As if I ever mop anything.) I was a little intrigued by Lilo's when she handed me her log book—the one that kept track of all of Jumba's Experiments.

"Flip to the back," she told me. I did and found a picture of me with the words "Experiment 626.4. Name: Simon." Written underneath. I was touched by the gesture. It was like she was making me an official member of the clan . . . or the 'Ohana,' as she would say.

I already had my gift from Aaron, and besides a pair of tight black jeans Elvis took the time to toss into a box for me, the last one was from 628. Her gift was a tiny silver locket. When I flipped opened the clasp, in the little windows were two walled sized pictures of her and me. I didn't know what to say but . . .

"Thank You."

She smiled and nodded. I was actually beginning to enjoy this birthday.

* * *

Next came the Trick-Or-Treaters. I wasn't partial to the tradition of children running around the streets like a band of lunatics, going from door to door, begging for candy. But Still, I insisted on being the one to hand out the candy. I had never done it before, and thought it would be nice to try and connect to the youth of today. Of course I had to take off my Phantom of the Opera costume when I began handing out the candy. I already looked weird enough to them. Besides, the damn thing was too sweaty. The moment I took it off I threw it in the trash and didn't look back. My fur was itching something fierce after wearing it.

There came a loud knock on the door and I answered it with a big bowl of candy in hand.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" The kids screamed, holding out their tiny plastic bags.

I put a grin on my face and dropped a few handfuls of candy into their bags. "Here you go . . . here you go . . . and, here you go."

"What are you supposed to be?" One of the kids, who was dressed as a vampire asked me.

"Try and guess," I said.

"A koala?" One of them said.

"No."

"A Dog?" Another suggested.

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm the genius offspring of an illegal genetic experiment."

"You're weird!" A little girl dressed as a fairy screamed, sticking out her tongue.

My eyebrows went up. "I-I'm weird?" I thrust my finger out. "No YOU'RE weird!"

"Am not!" She shrieked.

"Are too!" I yelled.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Your grammar sucks! Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"I know you are but what am I!" She crossed her arms smugly.

"Yeah, well, I'm rubber and you're glue. Whatever _you_ say bounces off of _me_ and sticks to _you_!"

"You're gross!"

I growled and leaned forward, grabbing her by the front of her dress. "Hey, Kid, I put razor blades in one of your bags." I reached out and flicked her bag which was practically swelling with candy. "Guess which one." I smiled triumphantly, letting out a dark chuckle as I watched the kids run away, screaming like a bunch of banshees. Of course that little stunt came back to bite me in the ass when a very angry mother came to the house no more than fifteen minutes later, all fire and brimstone.

"Did you say you put razor blades in my daughter's_ candy_!"

"Uh . . . I'm sorry but you have the wrong house," I said, and slammed the door in her face.

"What was that all about?" Nani asked as she was getting ready to leave with David and Kale to go Trick-Or-Treating.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Some lunatic. I sent her away."

By the time the next group of kids ambled up our steps, I was in a pretty sour mood to say the least. When one of them asked me what I was supposed to be; I growled and said: "Look kid, I'm a little person in a black and grey koala costume. Do you want your candy our not?"

By the fifteenth knock that night, I was ready to put a gun in my mouth. I answered the door to a little girl dressed up as a sunflower. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw me. "OH! You are so CUTE!" She had this big smile on her face. "You look just like my dog!"

I smiled a little. "You think I'm cute?" A lot of people thought my father was just adorable, but I never thought _I_ of all people—or experiments rather—would be considered cute (Well, I do look just like my father.) When she smiled and nodded her tiny little head, I pulled open her pillow case and dumped the entire bowl of candy into saying, "Oh, here, take it all." Smiling, I watched her walk away, desperately trying to drag her budging pillowcase behind here. "Sweet kid," I said, slowly closing the door behind me.

* * *

628 squealed with laughter. "No way," she said, trying to hold in her giggles. She failed and ended up laughing so hard the hammock we were sitting in rocked violently back and forth, almost throwing the both of us out.

I assured with a smug oh-yes-I-did-nod, and she burst out laughing again.

It was late at night, the bewitching hour—a little light humor on this, my Birthday, and Halloween—had already rolled and made way for the latest hours of the night. It wasn't so late that it was the early hours of the morning, but not so early that it could be called evening. The sky was still an inky black and in Hawaii you can see the stars better than anywhere in the big city. We were both sitting side by side in the pink flower hammock around the back of Nani's house. The place where my Dad, once upon a very long time ago, had watched Nani sing to Lilo when her little sister being taken away by Social Services was all but a certainty. We had the bamboo torches lit, the tiny little orange flames flickered in the cool breeze. The only other sound besides that of nature, were our own laughter.

When 628 disagreed with me again, oh so merrily, I smiled and insisted it was the truth. "Yes, it's true," I told her. "When I was a child, I believed so much in Santa Clause that I wanted to prove he existed." the wind rocked the hammock a little but I managed to steady us. "So," I continued, "On the night before Christmas, I set up a laser-defense grid, using a plate of milk and cookies as bait for good old Saint Nick . . . Well," at this time both of us burst out laughing. "The next morning we all came downstairs and," I laughed again, "and found Jumba locked in a titanium cage with five plasma blaster pointed at his head. And he still wouldn't drop the cookies!"

We were both chortling like a couple of idiots but we didn't care, we were having too much fun.

"That is too funny," she said, her cheeks a bright red from laughing so hard. She giggled a little more before looking up into the sky. "Look at all those stars," she said, awed. "Do you know any constellations?"

Tilting my head upwards, I starred up at the heavens, thinking, _how many people have looked up at this sky . . at these stars. How many of them were dreaming of seeing past them? _"Yes I do." I reached up and drew and invisible circle above our heads. "You see that grouping of stars right there?"

628 squinted, leaning forward in the hammock. "I think so . . . the square with those few stars that kind of look like legs."

I nodded. "Good eyes. Yeah, that one is called _Pegasus_. And the one over there," softly I placed my hand under her chin, gently directing it to the other side of the sky. "That one is Lacerta. I—" suddenly I felt something touch my hand. I look down and there was 628's tiny beige hand placed over mine. I turned my eyes on her face which was still engrossed in the heavens. I gulped and struggled to find some words—any words. "I, uh, I know a lot of constellations," I finally chocked out. Why was I suddenly falling to pieces?

She sighed slowly through her nose, it was a calm, purifying sigh. "Did you enjoy your party?"

I smiled, thinking back to how nice it felt knowing all those people were there for me. "Yeah, I did."

"Did you like my gift?"

My mind traveled half a mile away back to the house where the silver locket lay on 628's coffee table. "Yes. It's a very nice locket. Thanks . . . I really like it." The wind shifted and I felt a chill run down my spine. 628 shivered a little and moved closer to me. The hammock swayed as she did so. I guess she was a little chilly too.

"It was nothing," she said quietly "Just a little something I picked up."

Around us the crickets sung in the dark. The moon was a shinning white disk near the horizon. In a few short hours it would vanish beneath the sky completely, dying so the sun could rise and call in the beginning of a new day.

"It's such a beautiful night," I whispered quietly. "I . . ." I don't know where I found the courage or how I mustered the will to say it. But once it was spoken . . . there was no taking it back. "I'm glad you are here to share it with me." Funny, it didn't sound so lame when I heard it in my head. Maybe beautiful wasn't the right word to describe this night. . . the word I wanted to use had been_ romantic_.

"Simon?" It was 628's voice, miles away it seemed, though she sat right next to me. She uttered my name so quietly, I was almost sure I had imagined it. But I answered just the same, slowly turning my head so I could look at her face. Those big gorgeous eyes were staring deep into mine. _This is how a snake must feel when matching wits with a snake charmer, _I thought. I couldn't look away. "I have one more gift for you." Slowly she lifted her hand, shyly reaching out for my face. At the last moment she hesitated, but threw caution to the wind and went for it. It was she who initiated it, but_ I_ who closed the gap between us.

We kissed. The moment our lips touched I felt an inexplicable warmth blossom in my chest. It was a rush—no a surge of bodily heat. This time there was no one to interrupt us. Deepening the kiss, 628 pressed her hands against my face to pull me closer, and I in turn wrapped my arms around her waist so our bodies could be nearer. I was a complete amateur at this, just me alone wandering into uncharted territory, but I must have been doing something right. Because she didn't pull away or scold me. Not that I was thinking about my technique of course. There was nothing on my mind but the simmering, romantic passion I felt for the female who now had her thin, but powerful arms coiled around my neck in a vice grip.

We both parted to catch our breath. For a moment we stared into each other's eyes, the only sounds were the quick, hurried gasps of our breath. I would of bet my life that both of us were blushing beneath our fur. Then a smile came over 628's face. It was the most beautiful expression I had ever seen –or probably would ever see—a female wear. It was a smile of pure joy, bliss, and . . . something else. I knew the passion I felt she was feeling too. I tried to say something but my words were locked in my throat, but it was 628 who was first to speak.

She smiled again, that same, wonderful smile, and tenderly placed her hand on my face and said, "Happy Birthday, Simon."

I know it was absurd—but who knows, maybe it was just my urge to correct her at such an inappropriate moment, but the first thought to jump into my head was, It's not my birthday anymore." I hoped to whatever god was up there in those stars that she wasn't listening to my thoughts. I was never the smoothest or coolest guy, but I didn't want to risk spoiling the moment. I felt the lead in my stomach dissolve when she rested her head on my shoulder. I smiled a little myself as we both looked up into the sky, staring fixedly on the round, pale moon. This time I felt like were the only two people in the whole world it was looking at.

* * *

**Alius111:** Sorry again for the long wait, but I think it was worth it. Simon's and 628's relationship seems to be blossoming nicely, and trust me, your patience has been well spent. Because in the next chapter Elvis will finally be revealed for what he truly is. Does this have something to do with Simon and 628? Well, you'll have to wait and find out.


	26. A Monster Lurks In The Dark

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**A Monster Lurks in the Dark**

628 and I walked down the crowded Hawaiian streets, slowly trotting along the cul-de-sac on all fours, side by side as to give the impression that we were nothing more than a couple of innocent canines. We stuck to the shadows and slipped among the bustling tourists and the natives of the island. To be sure we must have turned some heads, but, I wasn't complaining. It was nice to get out of the house every once in a while – nice to be in public - not hiding in the dark like a rat too afraid to even show its own face in the light lest it get its neck snapped in a trap.

But I was with 628 now – she was by my side, and she was powerful. With her . . . I had bulletproof insurance. As long as I stayed here, on earth, nothing could hurt me ever again. Of that much I could be sure. However, there were other dangers festering beneath the surface of things: Elvis. We were getting closer to each other, our confrontation drawing nearer by the day. I could feel it rattling the very sinew of my body. It loomed in the distance like a cluster of black storm clouds, threating to explode in storm of thunder and lightning at any given moment. The separate paths we walked were becoming more and more narrow - soon to intersect and cross over one another. And my new found relationship with 628 would only act as a catalyst, sufficient enough to spearhead our inevitable, bloody end to a premature conclusion. It would be like throwing gasoline onto an open flame, turning a burning candle into a savage bonfire. The hatred that simmered between us would finally erupt in a hateful conflagration.

I would try and avoid it if I could but . . . at this point – even as I stared warmly at the female walking loyally by my side; it seemed like an absolute. 628 and I . . . it would hit Elvis like a kick right in his manhood, stinging both his pride and his swelling – and somewhat sensitive – ego.

In light of the rather hazardous turn my life had suddenly taken, I had to face the grime possibility that I might be murdered before my plan could be put into action.

_'No!' _My mind screamed in outrage at such an absurd notion. The thought that Elvis could kill me – _me_! I would not allow it. If I had to, I'd most certainly kill him first. If it came down to it . . . I'd slaughter him like an animal, make him scream as our father looked on in terror. With my days on earth careening to an abrupt close . . . these things didn't matter to me anymore. The only thing in the world that mattered was my revenge – that and . . .

My bright black eyes spied on the beige colored female strolling innocently on my right, walking so close to the shrubs that her soft fur brushed against the leaves.

Her. 628. She mattered.

It was then, as 628 and I stepped aside to allow an obese man with a terrible sun burn to pass us by, that I realized I would do anything for her._ Anything. _

"It's such a beautiful day." 628's voice was quiet whisper muttered daringly from the corner of her mouth.

I gazed up at the wide blue sky, my eyes lazily fallowing the rolling clouds. And said nothing.

"Although," 628 whispered with just the slightest bit of humor. "I suppose the weather is always nice here." She giggled. "That's why they call it paradise."

I grunted in reply.

" . . . Are you alright?"

"What?"

"Are you alright," she repeated, her voice heavy with concern. "You look a little out of it . . . something on your mind?"

I frowned. "Why don't you just read my thoughts and find out for yourself."

Fletcher's word thundered in my head. _'Ah, Kid! Stop thinkin' with yer dick! And get some bloody work done down there!'_

Except . . . it was more than just a desire to mate. I had to be honest . . . I continued to pursue 628 not out of pure physical attraction, but because my affections for her ran deeper than I had originally deducted when we first kissed. _You could end up breaking her heart you know. _My mind spoke with such rock hard logic that it was hard to argue. _But_, I thought with a light chuckle. _628 would probably tell me to get over myself if I ever expressed my worries that I might break her heart. Like _I _could ever harm a female like _her_. I'd bet she'd just wave it off as me being pompous and arrogant. As if any female would be devastated by the thought of losing _me_. _

This helped stagnate my troubled thoughts . . . but not entirely.

628 huffed. "Fine. You don't have to tell me. I was just curious."

She was raising her voice to a dangerous level, loud enough for any human who cared to listen to hear. I thought about telling her to keep it down, but what would be the point? She wouldn't listen to me anyway. I'll admit I loved her fierceness. If something were ever bothering her she was never afraid to speak her mind. In many ways she reminded me of Lilo but I had to look very hard to see that sweet little girl in this firecracker.

"Sorry, 628," I apologized. "My head was miles away."

This time when she spoke it was in my mind. _"It's alright." _She sounded placated by my sincerity. That at least was something. 628 had a nasty habit of holding a grudge just to get under my skin (and it worked too) _"It's just that, you haven't been very talkative much. The past few day's you've looked . . . lost."_

"I'm just worried about what Elvis might do when he finds out that we're . . . well, _together_." We came to a stop at a street corner. I looked up at a towering man who was busy yammering away on his cell phone, just to make sure no one could hear us two innocent dog's conversing. "It just worries me." The passing traffic drowned my voice from human ears. "I wonder how my family will react."

628 seemed less than troubled by the thought of Elvis, and merely dismissed the thought with a sharp wave. "Ah, it doesn't matter what he thinks," she said, abandoning our mental link. "If he tries to start anything, I'll just twist him into a pretzel."

I couldn't help but grin at the mental picture that fallowed her words. She could do it too. 628 was three times as strong as Elvis and my father. "Yes, well," I replied humbly. "Lets try and break the news . . . a little more lightly."

628's response cracked like a whip. "So when _are_ we gonna tell them?"

The traffic light turned green and we fallowed the parade of humans across the road as cars idled to our right, drivers anxious for the light to change. "We can tell them tonight . . . if that's what you want." I hopped lightly onto the sidewalk and 628 fallowed. Here the cement was covered with sand and weeds and slowly gave away to decaying planks of wood as we neared the beach.

628 smiled. I was felt relief at the sight of her smile. "Yes," she said, gently rubbing against my side as we passed by a row of parked cars. "I would like that."

The sun was a burning drop of gold in the sky. The humidity was hell. As the boardwalk became devoured by sand, countless humans fled for the water, some even carrying surfboard over their heads while letting out a gleeful cry of excitement. I sighed. Is there anything better than plunging into the cold embrace of the ocean to escape from the scorching heat? If there was, I certainly couldn't think of it – not at the moment anyway.

"Look at all these people," I said, annoyed. Looking across at her, I let my agitation be seen clearly on my face. "I don't know why you even wanted to come down here. It's tourists season. If any one of these bloodsucking tourists should hear us talking, they'll probably hang us with their camera straps."

628 rolled her eyes as she walked confidently onto the warm, golden sand, her head stuck up high like she owned everything the bright Hawaiian sun touched with its light. "So we have to pretend to be dogs a little longer. Lighten up. You worry too much."

Skeptically, I looked around. The beach was packed to the bursting point with humans. Hundreds of them ran screaming in and out of the water. Before us a group of tan, muscular teenagers were indulging themselves in a lively game of volleyball. Rows upon rows of towels lined the sand in consecutive lines, their columns organized with an almost Nazi-like precision. The whole place had the impression of a zoo inhabited by wild animals who were actually enjoying their servitude inside their cages. All these people were having fun and . . . and 628 was heading right for them!

"628!" I yelled, running after her. Luckily my voice went unnoticed in this sea of people. "What are you doing?" I demanded as soon as I had caught up with her. "Are you out of your mind? You're going to be discovered. This is a bad idea. We should go back to the house . . . _now_."

628 placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Simon, relax, we're dogs remember. To these people we're nothing more than a couple of slobbering mutts. Besides," she leaned over and licked my cheek. "It'll be nice to spend a day at the beach together. Don't you think?" Suddenly I was on my back and 628 climbed on top of me, her thin beige arms pinning me down to the sand.

I gulped, feeling apprehensive by how close we were.

"Uh . . .628 . . . I – uh – I . . . wuh – what are you doing?"

628 giggled and rolled off my body so she lay next to me in the sand, her hand coming up to pinch my cheek. "You're so cute when you're insecure," she said in a baby voice (she was mocking me) "Don't worry so much," she climbed to her feet and offered me a helping hand. I took it and was lifted off the sandy earth. "You're too wound tight. Learn to have some fun once in a while." 628 smiled and raised a skeptic eyebrow. "You do know what _fun_ is don't you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Of course I know what fun is. It's just . . ." I looked round nervously. "I don't do well in crowds." I added, with just a hint of sharpness with in voice. "And it's undignified to be forced to walk on all fours like an animal. It's humiliating. I'm a scientist, not a mongrel - "

"HEADS UP!"

Without thinking, I jumped onto my hind legs and spun around. "Wha – AGH!" the volleyball struck me right in the face, hurling me off my feet and into the sand. Hot pain sung from my nose as my vision went white. Moaning I reached up and dabbed my nose with my claws. Something warm and wet was running down my face from my nostrils. I could only assume it was blood.

"Oh my god!" a girl from the other side of the volleyball net screamed. "I think you killed that dog!"

628 gasped and was immediately by my side. But even through the starry haze I could hear her trying not to laugh. Even the voice in her head was giggling.

"_Are you alright?"_

I groaned. _"I suppose you think this is rather funny."_

Before 628 could answer, a pair of strong muscular hands wrapped around my torso and gently lifted me off the sand. I opened my eyes, wincing from the bright glare of the sun. A very skinny and tan beach bum with long yellow-blond hair stared down at me, his expression wide with alarm. On his left, crouched cautiously on her knees, was a young teenage girl wearing nothing but a scarlet bikini and a pair of star-shaped sunglasses. Gasping, she gave the young man's muscular shoulder a smack.

"Moron," she sneered, fumbling with her sun glasses. "You killed a dog. His owners are gonna pitch a fit when they find out."

"Just a sec," the man leaned forward until our faces were almost touching. "The little guy's still breathing, and," his concerned expression quickly changed to a disgusted grimace. "Are you sure it's a dog? It kinda looks like some kinda gross, mutant . . . er, Koala."

The woman in the star-shaped sunglasses snapped her bubblegum. "Shut up Jack!"

_Yeah,_ I thought grimly. _Shut up Jack._

"Look. There's another one!"

"_628!" _My mind screamed. _"Where the hell did you disappear to?" _I didn't have to wait long for her response. When I heard her kindly, familiar voice speak in my mind, I felt relieved, but agitated when I became aware of her laughter. Frantically I looked around, hoping got catch a glimpse of beige fur, but my watering eyes couldn't pierce through this wall of flesh and bustling swim shorts.

"_It looks like you've gotten pretty popular all of a sudden." _628 giggled. _"Look at all your new friends." _

I hated how smug she sounded. It seemed like she was enjoying this just a little too much.

"_Just get me out of here!"_ I roared.

"_Oh, right, I'll just waltz right on in there and say, 'excuses me, but that's my boyfriend, would you mind letting us go so we can be on our marry way? I'd appreciate it ever so much.'" _Her voice sighed._ ". . . what should I do then?"_

_I don't know . . . Anything!"_

Another sigh. Then a feeling of intense concentration._"Fine."_

Just then the ground was ripped out from under me and Jack, the girl with the star-shaped sunglasses, and the entire wall of people vanished in a inky cloud of blackness. Everything vanished, like reality had been splattered by some kind of liquid dark. I could feel a non existent wind rushing past my ears, screaming like an insane woman around my body. I was weightless, I felt like I were flying through some thick, atavistic nothingness. When my back struck hard earth, the world came back to me in an explosion of color. My senses – hearing, sight, taste, touch, and smell were jolted awake as if emerging from a deep coma.

I shivered as I sat up, groggily staring around my surroundings. My head couldn't take it and I fell back in a daze. I could feel my body sinking into warm, loose sand. Miles from my feet I could hear the sound of the waves washing against the shore, and could taste the salt on the air. _At least_ _we're still on the beach. But . . . where am I?_

A moment later I heard 628's voice appear at my left. "There," she announced, sounding a little annoyed. "Are you happy? I did something."

Wuh – what did you - " I groaned and placed my hand gently across my forehead. "What did you do?"

628 clicked her tongue as she stared absently into space. "Well, to make a long story short . . . I broke your body apart into _trillions_ of tiny little particles – just think of it as a kind of teleporting - and brought them here," she motioned with her hands and swept them across the scenery that I was still too lightheaded to see. "It took me a few hours but I was able to put you back together . . . mostly."

I felt a chill run down my back. "Mostly?" I couldn't even try to hide the unease in my voice.

Nervously she chuckled. "Yeah . . uh," Carefully 628 rested her hand on my thigh. "Simon, I'm sorry, but . . . I couldn't find your genitals."

Her words hit me lick a bolt of lightning. "WHAT!"

She laughed and held me down when I tried to get up. "Relax. I was only kidding. You're in one piece." With the utmost of care she lifted my head onto her lap and began to tenderly stroke the side of my face. "Just lie still." Her voice was soft and caring. It wasn't like her."You'll feel pretty sick for a while."

My ear twitched a little. She sounded very tired for some reason, and every once in a while her hand would slip from my face. "628?" I muttered. "Are you alright?"

"Huh . . ." Her head snapped up. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine." She laughed. "I guess I used a little too much energy." Her voice suddenly sounded miles away. "I – I just need to rest here for a while and . . . recharge."

"Wait?" I struggled to lift my hand – which felt as if it weighed a ton – and knocked her paw away. "How did you do that? I thought you couldn't control your powers?"

628 shrugged, her eyes became sleepy and relaxed. She had such a look of peace on her face I almost felt guilty for bothering her with my questions. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I just sort of . . . did it . . . I'm not exactly sure how."

Placing my hand over hers, I lowered her paw and dropped it on my chest. She smiled as she playfully ran her claws through my fur. There was a long moment of silence between us, with no words spoken, just the sound of our steady breathing and 628's claws as she she guided her hand up and down through my grey fur.

I thanked her for rescuing me.

Her response was a muttered, "No problem."

Sighing quietly, I closed my eyes but allowed just a sliver to remain open, just so I could peek at 628. Her eyes were closed too. Her breathe was quiet and hushed, she was barely breathing at all. _Is 628 asleep? _I wondered, slowly reaching up to stroke her face. Though her ear twitched when my hand lightly graced her cheek, her eyes remained closed. _She is so beautiful, _I thought as I gazed at her peaceful expression. _And, _my mind added wickedly, my conscience never allowing me any peace of mind:

_You don't deserve her._

The words - even though they were from my own head – stung as if Elvis had said them. Hell, it might have even been his voice speaking.

"_What is she doing with a loser like you?" _Elvis' voice asked.

I growled. "Shut up, Elvis." I shifted my weight so my head could rest against her stomach. "She's not your property. 628 is mine."

My brother's bothersome voice snickered._ "Yeah, but for how long . . . don't you think she should know why you were sent off to prison?"_

My breath hitched in my throat. Elvis' voice sounded pleased.

"_I knew it . . . so you haven't told her your little secret yet. No one else has . . . I wonder if she'll still like you after she finds out you're a murderer. When she finds out you killed all those innocent people."_

"_I . . . I didn't mean to."_

He scoffed. _"Yeah right. You liked it. You liked hearing them scream, liked to see how their parts flew in all different directions when you blasted them to pieces. Admit it._

"_N-no. I wasn't myself . . . I was under the influence of Chemical 606._

Elvis' retort was blunt. _"You're a killer Simon. A cold blooded killer. How easy was it for you to kill those guards when you were trying to escape from prison? They probably had a whole pile of kids. And now they won't be seeing their Daddy anymore because of you." _He snickered. "_Isn't that sad?"_

"_I . . ."_

"_Face it. In the end . . . You're just like me . . . You're just like me . . . just like me . . . like . . . me."_

Elvis' voice faded away to be replaced by my own dark thoughts. He was right . . . I was a murderer . . . but I wasn't the man he said I was . . . was I? I wondered what 628 thought of me – I had to ask her.

"628?" Reaching up, I gave her a arm gentle shake. My voice lowered to a whisper. "Wake up." Her face scrunched. She mumbled something incoherent and batted my hand away like a bothersome fly. Growling, I persisted with another hard shake. "628, wake up, I need to speak with you."

Through her slightly parted teeth she exhumed an exasperated sigh. Her eyes opened, those black, shinning orbs turning their gaze down at me. There was a similar look of annoyance in her stare that her sigh had expressed. I felt a little guilty having woken her up when she was in such desperate need of rest, but I was sure she would my reasons would be enough to pacify her.

"What?" 628 sort of half sighed/half shouted. I winced from the harshness in her voice. Suddenly, lying there on her lap like I was, I felt a little more uneasy and vulnerable than I had before. Like accidentally stumbling into the cave of a hibernating bear. "What?" She repeated, this time, a little more calmly.

I looked her square in the eye. "628. I need to ask you something. . ."

Her expression softened a little but there was still a lurking anger that never truly left her face. "Simon," 628 said. "It's a little early in our relationship for a proposal. How about waiting a few years - If we even last that long" That lurking anger seeped to the surface. " And if you keep waking me up like this, something tells me we won't."

I shook my head. "No. It just that . . . I need to know . . . why are you with me?"

There was a moment of confusion clouding her face before she spoke. "What?" 628 asked. "Why am I with you? What are you talking about? I'm here because I had to drag your sorry decompiled ass all the from the beach to this little spit of sand."

"No . . . I mean," My eyes dropped to my feet, for I was unable to keep looking her in the eyes, so ashamed was I of what I was about to ask.

Sighing, I muttered, "No, I mean . . . why are you – _with me_ – out of all the males. Why did you pick me?" Still staring down at my feet, I began to nervously tap my claws across my stomach. "I'm not that good looking. I'm not handsome like Elvis or strong like him. Logically there is no good reason for you to want me as your mate." I sighed. Each word drove a spike deep into my ribcage. But it was the last phrase spoken which I thought perfectly expressed my feelings. "I'm . . . inferior."

628, who had been listening intently to my entire speech, was silent and barely breathed. When I mustered the courage to look her in the face, her eyes were closed and one hand was rubbing her temple in a slow circular motion. It was almost like she had a headache. "Simon," when she spoke her voice was strained and tense, like a thick rusty pipe about to burst from the pressure. "I know you're insecure about yourself. I know it. I accept. But you _really_ have to _stop_ beating yourself down. I'm _sick_ of hearing it. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I wouldn't be with a male if I wasn't certain that he was _good enough for me_?"

"Well I didn't mean -"

"Quiet," 628 cut me off as she placed her hand over my mouth. "Simon. I chose to be with you because – in spite of your many annoying qualities – you're actually very sweet, you're considerate, you make me laugh, you're romantic, and you're generally a kindhearted person. . . and I know this shouldn't matter much . . . but," 628 smiled and ran her hand down my cheek. "You're actually very handsome."

I grinned, feeling a little sheepish, but frowned when I saw that look on 628's face again.

"But," she continued crossly. "If I'm going to have to be constantly reassuring you for the rest of my life . . ." 628 carefully pushed me off her lap. "Maybe this won't work out. If you're not mature enough to be in a adult relationship . . . _then don't be in one_."

"628! Wait," Pulling myself up to my feet, I crawled across the scorching sand like Moses through the desert and plopped myself next to her. Looking her right in the eye, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers. My eyes were closed so I couldn't see her reaction, but judging by how she pulled my closer and kissed me back with equal aggressiveness, I knew it had been a right move. (God knows I had to stumble on one eventually) when our kiss was done, we parted lips, I smiled at her and rested my hand on her leg. It had been quick but sweet, a couple seconds of pure electricity. Clearing my throat, I spoke in our language to show how serious I was, "628 . . . meega, ta, Buchie Boo." Leaning forward, I ran my tongue up her forehead like an animal tenderly licking its mate. It wasn't exactly a proposal, but it was a big step in our relationship.

628 chuckled, a hopeful, endearing smile coming over her face. Her bright, round eyes caught the bleeding light of the setting sun. This time she kissed me. I kissed her back – kissed her so hard it hurt. The sudden passion burning between us was as inexplicable as the world being torn away from me and reappearing on some beach. I wanted her, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it. The sudden urge to mate was so powerful, I could barely keep myself from jumping her right there in that bed of sand that overlooking the twisting sea. But, of course, I would never go that far without 628's consent. Trying to force a female into a situation she wasn't ready for reminded me too much of my brother. So for now, we were content to just kiss each other and stay close. I had butterflies in my stomach, and the warmth that blossomed in my chest was bittersweet. In the coming dark years of my life, I would look back on this moment with a gentle fondness. It would be one of the few flecks of light left in the blackness . . . but for now . . .

Eyes still closed, I drew back from 628, wrapped in the warm earthy smell of her fur, and whispered, "I love you 628."

I waited – waited in a icy grip to hear those words uttered back to me. Those few uncertain seconds in which she remained silent were like an eternity, an eternity of fear and doubt. But then all of it was washed away when 628 smiled and said those four words I had been dying to hear. She said, "I love you too Simon. . ."

We then left the beach, leaving nothing behind but the outline of our bodies in the sand and a few memories.

I think in our most intimate moments we'd like to think that maybe we are the only two people in the world. Never in our imaginations could we summarize that we might have been being watched . . . maybe I had even heard someone moving around the brambles; I'll never be sure, so engrossed was I in 628 that I was utterly dead to the rest of the world. Still, if only I had been a little more vigilante . . . or perhaps a little more aware . . . I might have noticed the deep crevices carved hatefully into the face of the rock right next to where 628 and I had confessed our love for one another. The truth was – someone _had_ been watching us,someone who had been fallowing us day, burning with jealousy – someone with claws.

* * *

I was surprised to hear the phone ring, even more surprised when it was my father's voice speaking on the other line. A quick glance at the clock told me it was fifteen minutes past three O'clock, way too late for any conventional call. My suspicions weren't aroused – not even when he asked me to meet him at the hammock, claiming he had something important he wanted to discuss. After all, why should I suspicious of my own father? He just wanted to talk . . . at fifteen past three in the morning – another look at the clock – sixteen past three. My ear twitched. 628 was sound asleep in her room, no point in waking her up for something so trivial; besides, Dad had asked me to come alone. "Why do you want to meet so late?" I thought the question had been innocent enough. Then why this rotten feeling when he sounded angry? In spite of my better judgment I agreed to meet with him. As I placed the receiver on it base, I was overcome by uncertainty. I looked around at 628's living room, the furniture so warm and familiar, silently pleading me to stay. My eyes found the front door. The flat wooden pane almost seemed to carry sinister air about it, for it was an opening to the cold bitter night. 628's quiet moans drifted into the living room through her open door. I jumped down from the couch and, not hearing them, opened the front door. The night air hit me like a blast in the face. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my torso._ Maybe I should call Dad back and tell him some other time . . . _right then and there my decision was made. I nodded my head ever so slightly, walked back into the house and spent the remainder of the night lying next to 628, dreaming dreams I knew I wouldn't remember when roused by the morning light.

If only that was how it happened. Well, I suppose, when I look back . . . maybe it was for the best.

The torches weren't lit. The pink floral hammock swayed back and forth like a pendulum in the breeze. The center of the hammock bulged around a mysterious weight. That was where my father sat. He didn't hear me as I walked cautiously up the wooden planks. His large, black eyes stared fore longingly out at a an endless forest of palm trees that seemed to stretched out forever.

"Hey, Dad," I said.

At the sound of my voice he turned his head and smiled, or, at least what I thought had been a smile. "Hey," he lifted a paw and gave it a slight wave. "What took you so long?"

I shrugged. "It's a cold night."

My Dad thought it over for a second and then burst out laughing. Perplexed, I watched him with a blank stare as he held his sides in a fit of giggles. "Ih," he agreed, then patted the hammock. "Come take a seat."

I hesitated.

My Father scrunched his face. "What's wrong?"

The wind felt bitterly cold, even my fur couldn't keep me warm. "I . . . I don't know."

Smiling, he jerked his head and beckoned me over. "Come on."

This rotten feeling, deep my gut, like a razor sharp hook digging into my gut. "Alright." Smiling, he leaned down and offered me his hand. I took it and he effortlessly pulled me next him. The hammock sank beneath our weight and I was forced sit so close our sides were touching. Through the wind, I could smell the scent coming from his fur. He smelled like my father. Like home. The scent that would fill a child with reassurance . . . now filled me with a silent dread.

"How've you been?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice. He sounded so friendly . . . so open. There was strange wisdom in his eyes, a dark knowledge sprouted from roots of pain. Gone was that bright childish glint . . . what had changed?

"I've been fine . . . been nervous about the things to come."

His left ear twitched. "What's coming?"

"I wish I knew. . ." I shivered as a cold like the sigh of a distant ocean rocked the hammock. My Dad smiled and put his arm around me. A father holding his son. Nothing strange about that . . . then why this rotten feeling?

"You. And. 628...you're ...close?"

I nodded my head and stared out at a horizon of palm trees and mountains. Could he possibly know? "Yes . . . we are."

Again, his ear twitched, as if listening for something far away. "How close?"

I raised me eyebrows, my face going blank. "What do you mean?"

My father turned to me and looked me dead in the eye; those massive black depths almost looked deadly.

I was afraid. "

"Have you fucked her?"

I was taken aback, not by the question, but how he had phrased it. I've never known my Dad to swear in the human language. This wasn't like him. I struggled to answer.

"We . . . we've come close." Why was he suddenly so interested in 628's and my relationship? Was this him trying to have 'the talk' with me? If that was the case, then he was a little late – a few years too late. I already knew all there was to know.

The next question, he asked with a blank expression. A Stone face. "Do you love her?"

My immediately jumped back to earlier on that very same night. When 628 and I had returned home from the beach . . . we had fooled around a little. We were Buchie Boo's. What we did in the privacy of our own bedroom was our business. I was very glad he couldn't see into my head. At that thought, I tried to call out to 628 with my mind, but she was sound asleep. My father was still waiting for an answer. Funny, he looked impatient.

In spite of myself, I smiled a little. "Yeah . . . I think I might."

His grip tightened on my shoulder, his claws piercing my skin, drawing blood. I cringed from the pain. I shrugged my shoulder, thinking he would let go. But when he didn't I turned to look at his face but paled when I saw the death stare he was giving me.

He bared his fangs at me.

"What?"

A noise from the bushed caught my attention. Squinting, I could make out a shape crouched low by the stairs. Something small and red with beady black eyes.

I stuttered. "Muh-Morpholomew? What are doing here?"

The tiny red experiment leered at me, his quivering lips sprinkled with grease and bits of fried chicken. He reached out and touched my father's leg and there was a small explosion of light. I watched, paralyzed, as my Dad's body caved in like a deflating balloon only to regrow, sprouting dark blue fur and a toothy grin. By the time his biceps and pectorals bulged from under his fur, I knew I had been tricked.

Elvis looked at me and smiled as he smoothed his spiky fur back. "You know, people always have a bad habit of showing up at the last minute to save your ass." he smiled. "So I think I better do this quickly."

heart jumping up to my throat, I tried to jump from the hammock, intending to run down the stairs and to the house and barge through the kitchen door, but Elvis held me back. He had me. There would be no escaping this time.

Fuck! How could I have been so blind? Here I was trying to figure out how to kill him and he makes the first move.

These thoughts rolled around my head as my body was thrown from the hammock and was sent tumbling down the hill.

* * *

For all of my brilliance, I hadn't seen it coming.

The kitchen was dark, a velvety curtain of pitch black. The house was silent. The only other living beings all in the building unconscious in a peaceful state of rest. They were dreaming. Oh how I wished I were dreaming too...

Elvis stood before me in the darkened kitchen, his glowing green eyes burning like the beacons of a specter.

I was afraid.

And why shouldn't I be? At that moment, I feared for my life. Even if I called out for my father Elvis would kill me before he would even make it to the elevator.

I was trapped.

There would be no one coming to my rescue this time...

Still, his plan had been brilliant—more brilliant than I had thought him capable. He had succeeded in luring me here. Now the trap had been sprung and cold steely fingers were sealing me inside.

From the laundry room I could hear the back door swinging on its hinges, the wind blowing open and shut with a steady _clunk...clunk...clunk..._

A cool breeze wafted in the kitchen. I shivered.

The door was so close, and on the other side was freedom, but it might has well have been miles away.

Elvis spoke, "Nowhere to run...nowhere to hide...no more excuses..."

I took a step back. His intimidating form – so large in comparison to mine - blocked the way to the back door. He was like a predator who had cornered his prey. There was nowhere for me to run but the living room. But even then I knew he would have me before I could make it to the front door and dive through the dog-door.

I could see the blood lust in his eyes. I had seen that look many times before – always directed at me now that I think about it. I had become far too familiar with that murderous glint for my own taste. But before, where it served me with fear, it now filled me with a burning will to survive.

I knew he intended to kill me tonight. He was going to murder me – right here and now.

Another backwards step towards the living room, he mimicked me with an advancing step of his own. _Oh god! Why is the living room so far away!?_

Who could save me now? Dad? He'd never make it in time. 628? she was asleep, far far away in her home. Smoldering in Elvis' eyes I saw the downfall of my master plan. My plan to kill him, to flee to Ragon 7, to hopefully put an end to the Grand Councilwoman's tyranny; to murder Hamsterviel. It all came crashing down in my brother's eyes.

...and all I could do was whimper to myself, my mouth no longer able to produce words.

I had to do something – I had to save myself! I had to make a noise, a sound...._Anything!_

Without thinking, I turned away from my brother and ran for the living room, and somehow found my voice.

"DAD HELP!"

Elvis snarled. He lunged and I felt his crushing weight barreling down on top of me. I hit the hardwood floor, my face smashing into a vinyl record Lilo had left carelessly behind. The record split and my face was grounded into the pieces by a strong paw.

Flipping me onto my back, Elvis pinned me down. I gagged as his hands wrapped around my throat.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He screamed. Lifting my head, he bashed it against the floor. Upstairs, I could hear a commotion, like the thud of tiny footstep running around the rooms above.

This made no sense...how did Elvis expect to get away with this? And then it hit me...he didn't...my blood ran cold. He didn't expect or cared if anyone knew what he had done...as long as it was done...as long as I was finally dead...

I couldn't breathe.

Elvis squeezed my throat. I wheezed and gasped for life-giving oxygen that wouldn't come. A blur of images ran through my mind as my eyes darted frantically around the room, almost as if searching for a way out.

I could see them all...Dad, Lilo, Jumba, Fletcher, 628...I had let them all down.

My claws gripped Elvis's wrist, trying desperately with all my might to free myself. But . . . he was just _so_ strong.

Who knew it would end like this...

The lights suddenly came to life, illuminating the darkness in a flash that was instantaneous.

In a moment of confusion, Elvis turned to stare into the hallway, his grip loosening slightly.

I looked too.

Our Father stood in the hallway, with Lilo close behind, a look of complete shock and horror as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

My gargled cry was enough to break him out of his stupor and he charged at Elvis without even thinking. Lilo watched, _wide eyed_, as the two experiments collided. I rolled over as I was suddenly freed, gasping as for air as tears ran down my face. The pain was too much.

My father and Elvis grappled with each other, rolling around the living room in a ferocious battle, each one trying and failing to gain the upper hand over the other. As surprised as my Dad must have been to be hurled into this situation, he didn't deter from his assault.

It was an awesome sight.

Biting and clawing, their bodies slammed into the coffee table, rendering it to splinters.

"MEEGA NALA QUEESTA!'

"CHUPI CHIFFA!"

As they struggled, Elvis was thrown back into the television, sending it toppling to the floor where it smashed to pieces.

The resulting ruckus was enough to wake the rest of the house. From miles away I heard a baby crying in a room somewhere down the hall, immediately fallowed by the loud thump of a body falling out of bed. Lilo had moved from the doorway and know knelt at my side, still watching in mute horror as father and son battled.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" My Dad let a scream as he was thrown across the living room. I cringed as his body smashed through the drywall and landed on the kitchen floor amongst a pile of debris.

"Elvis! Why are you doing this!" Lilo cried. "Please stop!"

Her call went unheeded.

My father was on his feet by the time Elvis came barging into the kitchen where the battle resumed. As I watched him fight, I was reminded of my own bitter memories of when I tried to kill my father in this very house while under the influence of Chemical 606. It left a sour taste in my mouth...but I couldn't seem to look away. So mesmerized was I by the sight of Elvis and my dad exchanging blows.

Over the sound of shattering glass, I heard footsteps approaching rapidly from the hall. A moment later, a disheveled Nani appeared in the doorway dressed in nothing but a pink t-shirt and a pair of red underwear. For a moment she froze in place, unable to discern – or perhaps believe what she was seeing. Then, coming to her senses, she let out one hell of a scream.

"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU TWO!" She stepped over Lilo and I as she stormed the kitchen. "IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!" Nani ducked as a chair flew overhead.(Who threw it I can't exactly be sure.)

"WHAT IS ALL THE COMMOTION!" Came a thundering bellow from Lilo's old room atop the narrow staircase. "EVEN EVIL GENIUS NEEDS SLEEP!"

In no time at all, Jumba stumbled into the living room, fallowed closely by Pleackley who's one eye practically bugged out of his skull when he beheld the carnage.

"Simon," Lilo gently lifted me off the floor and pulled me into a sitting position, ever the motherly figure. "Are you alright?"

I nodded and grasped my throat, rasping as I struggled to speak, "Yes, I'm fine." I could hear my own voice and was troubled. It rasped yes, rasped and cracked like I had a sore throat. I could only hope the damage to my vocal cords was not permanent.

In the kitchen the situation became more hopeless. With her back pressed up against the wall like a soldier avoiding enemy fire, Nani peeked into the kitchen, maybe not entirely prepared for what she might see.

Several times, dad tried to stop the fight and reason with his son – try to figure out why he would do something so despicable. But every time he dropped his guard, Elvis, in a blind rage, would lunge for dad's throat with the cunning of a wild animal. And they would fight once more. Now it seemed more like Father was defending himself.

"Simon!" It was Lilo. She was screaming my name. "What's going on." she sounded desperate. As if I had all the answer and for some reason was unwilling to share.

"Lilo I....." the words were out of my mouth and hung dead in the air like a bird with a broken wing, before they fell to the floor, lost, forgotten.

That's when Elvis came at me.

I'm not exactly sure when or how he managed to break away from Dad, but he did.

He charged.

One moment I was shoving Lilo to safety, and the next I was airborne as a Elvis struck hard with his body, sending us both flying across the living room.

We were actually in midair when a small blue paw appeared in my line of sight, just hovering over Elvis's shoulder and pulled him back.

It was like a whip the way we suddenly snapped to a halt and fell on top of the splintered pile of debris that had been the coffee table. Three bodies: Elvis, father and myself in a garbled mess of bodies. One in excruciating pain from the devastating blow to his chest, one with murderous intent, and the other trying pin down the one trying to murder the pained one. It was all such a mess. The world whooshed around me in a blur of color as the world spun. Then, a powerful arm coiled around my neck and heaved me to my feet. Before I could figure out what was going on, Elvis had me in a chock-hold and was using my body as in own personnel shield.

My father took this brief calm as a chance to try and reason with his son. Even though I saw the desperation in his eyes, I knew it would do no good. But it certainly wouldn't stop him from trying.

"Suh-Son..."

Elvis took a brisk step backwards, his arm tightening around my neck.

I could feel his hot panting breath on the back of my head; I could see bright white stars flashing before my eyes as I was deprived of air. My struggles were In vain. Elvis had me, and he wouldn't let me go.

The room was filled with a fragile tension as if it were being pumped in through the vents. The gathered crowd was in a state of wary fear and anxious anticipation for what would happen next. No one spoke save for the tiny three foot tall experiment which tried to reason with his oldest son.

"Elvis . . . Eebooga mur turelah?"

Why are you doing this? He had asked.

Elvis was silent...either he had nothing to say, or nothing he was willing too. I knew he hadn't planned on this to happen. I was supposed to be dead by now and he was probably supposed in Jumba's ship on his way to remote planet.

His grip was tight, but not tight enough to keep me from speaking.

"You've all been fooled!" My voice was weak but had the desired effect. "You've all been fooled by _him_!"

"Shut up!"Elvis sneered into my ear. A quick flex of his bicep and I was strangled.

"What are you talking about!?"

A frantic look through the murky fog in my head. Yes, it had been Lilo who had spoken. From the tone of her voice I determined she was as confused and frightened as my Father must have felt.

Aaron chose that exact moment to wander into the living room. (Perfect timing as always)

Yawning loudly, he stumbled past Nani, a tiny blue fist rubbing the sleep from his eyes like a man roused from a relaxing nap. Idiot, he had probably just woken up to the sound of voices from downstairs.

"Huh-hey..." He mumbled. "What's going on?" Aaron's tired eyes immediately found Elvis cowering on the other end of the living room with me as his hostage and everything seemed to piece together in his mind. "Holy shit..." he backed away, at a loss for words. I would have gladly explained the situation had Elvis not been crushing my windpipe. As it were, I was a little incapacitated.

"Alright!" Nani threw her hands in the air. "Everybody calm down!"

a silence fell on the room, the only sound the muffled whisper of Elvis's ragged breathing on the nape of my neck. Kale struggled and whined in David's arm, tired and cranky and wanting to go to bed. That simple child...he couldn't understand what was happing.

I knew I had to free myself from Elvis somehow. The situation was spiraling out of control. What was once a carefully kept secret had now exploded! Catching everyone in the white hot blaze. What had involved only Elvis, Aaron and I, was now stripped and put on display for the whole family like a circus freak show. The heart of my story, the seething core of my bloody revenge, the reason and the faults, was now an open wound spewing blood and pus for all to gawk at.

What could I do?

Well...No going back now I suppose...

"Elvis, let Simon go!" Nani demanded.

I could feel my brother's body go tense. "Not a fucking chance!" He spat.

Nani gasped. But Elvis wasn't finished – nowhere close to finished.

"I don't have to listen to you...I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO _**ANY OF YOU**__!_"

A dreadful silence filled the room, all words and thought struck dead by Elvis's words. Everyone seemed to freeze like deer caught in the headlights.

Then, much to my surprise, Elvis dropped me and shoved my body to the floor.

I gasped and looked up with watering eyes as he retreated to the far corner of the room, his back pressing against the wall as if he were hoping to sink into the wood and paint.

"Elvis..." Lilo said pathetically. "Why?"

"I'll tell you why!" I climbed to my feet and glared at Elvis. "You've all been tricked!" I pointed a single black claw at my brother. I could my anger boiling deep in my gut, threatening to erupt like a volcano—this pressure! The secret had swelled and festered in me too long! I had to let it out or I would explode!

"He's a_ murderer_!" I yelled, silencing anyone who would dare to disagree. "You've all been living in this lie—this—this..._fantasy_ he's created!"

Jumba, who had remained strangely quiet through out this entire ordeal, finally spoke up. "Simon, what is this you are speaking of?"

I laughed a little, I laughed a laugh I hadn't used since I was insane in the dark hell of prison asteroid K-37. "You...want to know Jumba....you want to know—FINE! I'LL TELL YOU!" My chest heaved. "I'LL TELL YOU ALL!" My eyes found Elvis and I secretly delighted in the hopeless expression plastered on his face. This was it, the secret was out. The emperor was out with his new clothes and he was naked! "Elvis has been lying to you all...everything that has happened—everything that you think I've done! Is! All! His! Fault!"

This was it, I could taste it in my mouth and it was oh so sweet.

"He set me up!" I pointed at Elvis. "It was Elvis who attacked Lilo! Not me! He nearly killed Lilo disguised as me so he could frame me!" So many thoughts were rushing around in my head, all trying furiously to squeeze themselves through my mouth at the same time. It was like a horde of angry protesters trying to storm the office of a heartless republican. I _had_ to get my thoughts in order if I was going to make this right. "First," I said, "Elvis purposely sabotaged himself and hospitalized Lilo. But what you _don't_ know is that while you were all away at the hospital, Elvis tracked me down to the cliff and tried to murder me!"

My dad blinked.

"Yes that's right!" He pushed me off the cliff and left me for dead. That's why I used chemical 601 That's why I killed all those people! This was all orchestrated _by him_."

Nani seemed to come back to her senses. "That's... that's impossible." she looked over at Elvis almost as if she were the hoping the true answer would be written on his face.

"No," Aaron spoke up. "Simon's telling the truth." Everyone present was stunned as Aaron detached himself from the rest of the group. "It's true...all of it. Elvis _did_ frame Simon and _did_ try to kill him...I thought he had." Aaron dropped his head in shame. "I-I knew...and didn't tell anyone. The wrong man went to jail two years ago..." now a broken man, Aaron gazed up at our father, pleading. "I'm sorry Dad...I didn't say anything because...because....." Aaron then mustered up the last of his courage. "Because Elvis said he would KILL Kale if I did!"

Nani gasped and pulled her child close to her bosom, horrified by the very thought.

Our Father stared at Elvis, with a blank expression on his face, probably _truly_ seeing his oldest son for the very first time. Gone was the little boy he bottle fed and taught how to catch a baseball. Gone was the child who had climbed into his bed when the skies thundered and poured. Somewhere along the way a monster had taken his place. Crept up on him when he had his back turn. Now there was nothing left but this horrible, murdering, treacherous thing that had stolen away his son and broken his heart. For if the things we were telling him were true...he would surely die on the inside.

Pleakley was the first to speak up and shatter the silence. "You-YOU LITTLE MONSTER!"

"Nuh-no!" Elvis screamed. He could do nothing as his world came crashing down around him. It was tormenting him, killing him; and I was enjoying every glorious minute of it. "**THEY'RE LIEING!**"

"It's too late Elvis," I righted myself and folded my arms behind my back. "They know. They finally know what you are...and more importantly...what you've done."

Elvis shook his head back and forth, unwilling to believe what was happening. What was to happen to him now? I couldn't be sure. I could only stand there and watched as justice was finally served. My revenge was now partially complete. Elvis had now sacrificed family and everything he had because of the truth. Now all that remained was his very life. Something I would relish in taking from him. But not yet. I was content to remain silent and enjoy the moment and watch him squirm.

All eyes were on Elvis now. All accusing him, blaming him, burning holes into him. His eyes were wild inside his skull as they searched for a way out. Everyone knew something had to happen but no one wanted to make the first move. I never would have imagine what happened next.

My father took at step towards Elvis, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence he approached faster.

Elvis's eyes went wide. He looked down and his hands began fumbling with his pockets.

"Elvis..." My dad reached out with his paw.

In an arc of silver, Elvis flashed a switchblade from his pocket. "GET BACK!" He yelled, brandishing the blade. GET BACK!"

My dad paused and looked down upon his son with pity. Elvis wildly slashed the blade through the air, I half expected the trauma of being revealed for what he was and having to face it had driven him insane. But then, whimpering, the blade fell from from his hand and clattered to the floor, immediately fallowed by Elvis who dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Dad's paw went to rest on his shoulder.

In a panic, expecting an attack, Elvis suddenly tore across the living room and leaped into the air. The sound of shattering glass split the room as he lunged through the window and vanished into the darkness. I cringed, The squeal of metal could be heard as Nani's car was rolled over. My father, Aaron, Jumba, Nani and everyone else all ran out the front door in hot pursuit, or maybe to catch a last glimpse, as if to drive the final nail into the coffin and prove what they had experienced was real. Only Lilo and myself remained behind. Each of us, for our own reasons, rooted to the spot. Trapped within the own purgatories of our minds. While she might have mourning the loss of a loved one...one the inside, I was _laughing_.

A dark smile crept onto my face.

Yes...I had done it. My ears drooped as I stared up at the ceiling. It was done. My name had been cleared and Elvis was now fleeing through the jungle. Hunted like an animal.

It was all so perfect.

In the distance, the roar of a spaceship tearing into the skies bent the trees in a mighty gust.

I smiled. He had escaped. But no matter. I never thought for a moment they were going to catch him. Elvis had hijacked Jumba's ship and escaped. You think I would upset. I wasn't.

He was gone, but oh what delicious irony. Now he was the one forced to leave everything he loved behind. Now he was the one cast to the cold, dark, recesses of space. Left alone...left to die....buried by his own misery.....buried alive....buried alive....buried alive....buried alive.............buried alive.

* * *

**Alius111: **I'm back, baby!


	27. The Inauguration of the Empire

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**The Inauguration of the Empire**

It was late that very same night, Lilo and I were the only ones who remained in the house, the events of just a few moments ago still echoing fresh in our minds. Somewhere out there in the endless night my Father and the rest of the family were on their way back, having failed in their attempt to capture Elvis before he escaped. I could see them clearly in my mind walking back in a dreadful silence, their heads hung low. What were they thinking?...what was _she_ thinking?

"Lilo?" I said quietly.

"Yeah?" she replied just as quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "You've been very quiet."

"I'm okay." She murmured.

I wasn't convinced.

"Lilo..." I walked next to her. "What's wrong?"

She hesitated for a moment before the answer came spilling out. She whispered it. "I hated you for what you did..."

I smiled and shook my head. "You're Lilo...You don't hate."

She started to cry. "Yes I do."

"Lilo...it's alright."

Lilo nodded her head and burst into tears. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. I smiled a little and hugged her back just as hard. I said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

This time...I think I was truly forgiven.

I pulled away from Lilo and looked down at the floor. Frowning I bent down and retrieved a shard of her record.

"Sorry about you record," I said offering her the piece.

She smiled and took it from me. "It's okay Simon," she then chucked the shard over her shoulder as if it were nothing. "It skipped anyway."

I couldn't help it, I started laughing.

* * *

A new day was dawning for me.

When I woke up the next morning I was overcome with a strange new feeling. I had been uplifted—i_nspired. _That morning I awoke and up and was no longer trapped in my brother's shadow. I knew very well what I had done; I had hurt him, and to tell the honest truth, I wanted to keep doing it. My revenge was now only semi-complete, my plan was still in motion, and everyone was playing their parts so perfectly.

What remained now?

I silently mused as daylight streamed in through the window. Elvis was gone...but there was still the matter of Experiment O and Hamsterviel. If everything went according to plan I would know days in advanced before he brought his fleet to this planet, and as they arrived—I must confess I thought this over with private delight—I would shoot his ships out of the sky. Then, with Experiment O safely in hand, I would escape and join Fletcher on Argon 7 to take down the Grand Councilwoman.

Smiling to myself, I looked over at 628 as she slept peacefully beside me. Ever since we began our relationship I had been promoted from the couch in the living room and was now allowed to sleep with 628 in her bed and in her room—_our_ room, as it was now called. But after what had happened last night, my dad insisted that 628 and I spend the night; so we decided to bunk downstairs on the couch for now.

Slowly I reached out and ran my paw down her cheek. _Whoa_._..she is so beautiful...what did I do to deserve her? _I was careful not to wake her as I leaned over and licked her cheek.

"Hmmmm," 628 stirred.

I smiled as her eyes opened.

"Morning," I said.

She sat up and stretched her back. "Morning Simon." With a loud yawn she fell backwards and plopped onto the couch cushion. "You know, it's still so weird waking up next to you."

I slumped my shoulders. "Gee, thanks..."

628 laughed at me. "No, I met weird in a _good_ way."

I grinned and laid down next to her, sighing as I stared up at the ceiling. "He's really gone..."I whispered.

628 looked up at the ceiling too. "Yeah...I guess he is..." she then turned to me. "Simon, why didn't you tell me?"

I frowned. What could I tell her? The truth I suppose...

"I didn't want you to know."

She was firm but understanding. "I know but...maybe I could have helped you..."

I looked into her eyes and saw my own shame reflected back in the trust she had for me. I could tell that I had upset her by not confiding in her when she thought I needed her the most....I then promised myself I would never hurt her again by keeping something to myself...at least, something this important. So, I thought with a heavy heart, that's why I had to tell her the truth.

"628..."

"Yes?"

I gazed at her face. She was so at peace with me...so trusting; something I was about to shatter completely.

"There's something I need to tell you..."

Our peaceful silence was suddenly destroyed as Jumba came stumbling into the room, still dressed in his nightcap and pajamas.

"Turn on the television!" He cried.

He was immediately fallowed by Pleakley and my Father. They all seemed as distressed as Jumba.

But why?

628 blinked and the T.V switched on.

Jumba grabbed the remote in his meaty fist and heaved his wide person onto the couch, forcing me and 628 to scooch over to the center. My Father sat next to me with his eyes glued to the T.V while Pleakley stood by the door, his one eye practically bulging with fear.

I gasped when the image of the Grand Council Room of Planet Turo appeared on the screen (My satellite of course relayed any signals broadcasting from deep space to the one installed on the roof, so we were the only people on Earth watching.) Hovering camera drones circled around the council room. It seemed the Grand councilwoman had called for a full session of congress—every delegate and ambassador representing all the planets in the federation were present (apart from Lilo.) As we watched, I immediately knew something was wrong. There was no speech—no talking amongst the ambassadors. This dead silence seemed to have filled the bottomless chamber which was now as still as the back void of space visible through the massive ornate window behind the podium.

"Jumba, what's happening?"

"Shush," Jumba said, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Then I saw her.

A single beam of light shone down on the gold podium and the Grand Councilwoman stepped into it—although, she wasn't how I remembered her, or how she had appeared in the hologram. The Grand councilwoman had changed—the headdress on her shoulders was no longer gold but a bright silver. Her cape which usually trailed behind her now seemed to hang from the rim of her glimmering headdress to shroud her entire body. I could see at tent jutting from the center of her shroud which I knew were her hands balled around that damn cane.

Silently she surveyed the chamber—which I noticed was packed with armed guards—and spoke.

"Representatives of the Federation." Her voice was loud and commanding in the dismal silence. "We have entered into dark times. In the past you have questioned my leadership as well as my methods. The more radical even going as far to accuse me of corrupting the system from within and sabotaging the laws and principles which have kept this mighty alliance standing for well over ten-thousand years. Some even place me at the center of a vast conspiracy." She paused for a moment and then continued. "These are nothing more than viscous attempts to drive us apart—to weaken us—as a means to seize power. I stand before you now looking on a broken union—a dark shadow of a once powerful confederation. It has become clear that we no longer function. War and chaos have divided us, have splintered the very foundations of this organization." She raised a fist to them room. "I tell you now we must be united in the face of our enemies. For too long we have let petty differences tear us apart. Ten-thousand years ago, after the end of the last Civil War, our founders came together and forged the Federation of United Systems in the hope that the Galaxy would never have to see such bloodshed again. Now it is time to test our strength." The ambassadors listened in rapt silence. Even as Lilo and Aaron filtered into the living room, I didn't look away from the T.V. "The enemy is at our door. We have received intelligence that Fletcher's Trade Organization and a one Doctor Jacques Von Hamsterviel, have amassed a massive attack force, and are now, even as we speak, preparing to attack us. But as long as _I_ am the head of this Council—" she continued in a deadly voice. "I promise not a single one their savage group will set even a foot on Turonian soil."

The council chamber broke out into a mass of applause.

"This isn't right," I whispered to myself. "Fletcher would never work with Hamsterviel...it was almost like she was...locking them in."

She waited patiently for the applause to die down before continuing.

"In this time of war we have been divided, become easy prey for our enemies to slowly pick away at us. We are driven apart in short by our own hand. _We_ have all the keys and _we_ keep opening the doors. We—this Federation—have brought this conflict on ourselves. Our enemies have seen our vulnerabilities and are now taking advantage. The time has come to set aside our grievances and restore order to the Galaxy. I implore you—no I beg you all, to stand with me. To help me fight. Are we willing to watch everything we have ever know burned to ashes? Nothing more than a memory?" she then spread arms wide from beneath her cloak. "Or will the Federation survive!? Will we stand together? Will we declare in one voice that this alliance will! Not! Die!"

Her words seemed to bring new life to the ambassadors. They were now on their feet (or tentacles, or whatever some species had to stand on) and were now clapping enthusiastically. Some, however, near the back of the chamber, remained grimly silent.

"EXCELLENT!" She shouted. "I now open the floor to any who wish to stand with me. To help wipe out this plague!"

The spotlight then shined high up in the raised balconies nearest the golden podium. The ambassador who spoke was of a strange alien species who spoke in a foreign dialect I was unfamiliar with. We all listened intently as a robotic voice translated his language.

"_The honorable representative of Pharimius concurs with the Grand Councilwoman. We have been divided long enough. The Federation has become a symbol of weakness and mediocrity. It is now time for us to unite under a new banner, under a single voice. A fist we can thrust into the wombs of our enemies!_"

"YES!" The scream came from the opposite side of the chamber shouted in the Galactic Standard. An ambassador of another species stood as the light shone on him, and, looking very regal and aristocratic, he addressed the federation:

"In this government, the people have decided. But it is the _people_ who have rotted the core of this alliance. We are nothing more than squabbling, greedy politicians which thirst for wealth and power. And while we have fought amongst ourselves, two great forces have crept up on us, have apposed us. It is apparent we cannot be trusted with control of our system. It is now appropriate to return power to the one who can lead us out of this crisis!" he gestured with his black claw to the podium. "Our elected leader."

And then a third voice spoke, one by far the most sinister.

"_The citizens of Zarn...agree." _The ambassador placed his hand over his chest as the light was moved to him. "_A change is needed—not wanted—but _needed. _If we are to survive...we must look away from the past and gaze towards the glorious future we will build. I therefore move for a complete reorganization of the Federation. Today we vote to change the galaxy—to change history. And one day the galaxy will be free. So now I call the vote. All in favor of relinquishing control of the federation to our elected leader...raise your voices and say AI!"_

A dreadful silence fallowed after. It was so powerful it even penetrated light years to our tiny little house—the only place on earth where people knew what was happening.

Then... a clap.

Then another...and another.

Then the council chamber was filled with thunder and roars as the whole Federation jumped to its feet and shrieked in glory at this knew messiah who appeared in the form of the Grand Councilwoman.

For an instant, one of the hovering camera drones glanced over the Grand Councilwoman's face, and I couldn't help but notice the tiniest smile that had crept onto the corner of her mouth. She didn't even have to lift the finger. She knew what was going to happen all along. The people had made their final decision...no wonder her uniform was different. It wouldn't make as a uniform for the Grand Councilwoman....but it would due as an inauguration robe.

The clapping then died down as the light was brought down on the Grand Councilwoman—but, was It right to call her that? What was she now? I suppose it didn't matter anymore. The motion had been passed...she was supreme now....

The Had-Been-Grand Councilwoman then drew herself up to her fullest height and spoke in what could be perceived as a very touched, and subtly surprised tone.

"It is with great..._reluctance, _that I accept this position. But you have decided! This is the dawning of a new era! Let it be known, that today, the Federation of United Systems is no more! Today we witness the birth of the SECOND! GALACTIC! EMPIRE! An Empire built on roots of the Old Federation—one that will stand for another ten-thousand years!"

Then the whole world seemed to be drown out by applause. I couldn't believe how fast it had happened.

Lilo gasped—maybe not really understanding the gravity of the situation—however Jumba and Pleakley looked as if they were ready to drop dead.

But I knew—as I had the most time closer to the Grand councilwoman to know how this had happened. It had begun foremost with Hamsterviel. I didn't like to admit it but part of what she said had been true. When Hamsterviel had usurped control of the federation with his army of Leroys, it had proven the Federation wasn't the almighty force it was thought to be. And of course, pirates like Fletcher were more than willing to take advantage of this. For him, it was all for profit. He attacked and ransacked federation targets to gain wealth...not power. But in this time of fear—after the alliance had _just_ been reestablished after Hamsterviel's rule—the ambassadors wanted it stopped. They wanted action and cruel justice—not diplomacy. Not the possible authorization of a Trade Franchise for these criminals. So, come election time, they elected the new Council Woman. It was clear now that she had people on the inside who helped secure the election for her. And after she was in power she began making her subtle changes to the constitution—changes of course all authorized by the council. She used fear of the situation to bully them into voting in her favor and no doubt had those who disagreed murdered—though I'm sure it could never be traced back to her. It was her who had turned this into an all-out war against Fletcher's Organization and Hamsterviel's forces, and after that her influence and power only began to grow. I was certain she had ambassadors and councilmen on her side—ambassadors who I bet became a lot richer and a lot more powerful from this union—and now, with the Federation fighting _two_ wars, she was in a position to secure more dictator-like powers for herself. Those who agreed were rewarded, and those who didn't vanished without a trace. Only people like Fletcher knew what was really going on. Maybe, at the beginning, they might have had a chance to stop her. But now it was too late. She had been able to secretly get enough senators on her side to get the majority—god damn it! She didn't even have to bring it up herself! I bet the Representative who declared the motion was going to get a nice shiny new position for his planet and himself. That's why these idiots went along with it—personnel wealth and glory. Anyone else was either too afraid to speak out...or had already been silenced. It was over...the Grand Councilwoman had finally won....no—the _Empress_ had won.

Jumba buried his face in his hand and flicked off the television. We sat there in silence—none of us knowing really what to say.

Lilo was the first to speak. "What...what does this mean?" She looked around at her alien friends, hoping one of us who had more experience with this world could explain the true horror of what had just occurred.

"Oh Simon," 628 held my hand so tight I felt like it might break.

"This...this is awful," Pleakley's hand went over his mouth. He looked close to tears.

My father said nothing. He just sat next to me, his eyes dark and his ears dropped.

"_I've been here too long," _I thought. _"Staying had been a mistake...waiting for Hamsterviel to move first had been a mistake. I should have taken Experiment O and run to Argon 7...I waited too long. Maybe...maybe if I had acted sooner...maybe if If had used Experiment O....I could have stopped this..._

Lilo's sad chocolate brown eyes looked around at my Dad, me and 628, and no doubt her mind was wandering to the other six-hundred and some odd experiments scattered around the island.

"What's going to happen to our Ohana now?" Her eyes were filled with sadness. It was heartbreaking.

Jumba sighed. "I don't know Lilo...I don't know."

My Dad put a comforting arm around Lilo's shoulder but nothing seemed to be able to lift the sadness that filled the room.

I couldn't take it _anymore..._I had to get out.

* * *

I sat before my supercomputer, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I mused deep in thought. With a quiet _ping _the files on my computer were replaced with an image of the planet earth. I struck a few more keys and an image of my satellite appeared in a tiny window. As I typed more satellites appeared and were connected by a series of digital lines; one after the other until it became a network of yellow webs.

I was hacking into the military defense system. Using my own satellite I was able to broadcast a signal all around the planet and monitor whatever came within range of Earth's atmosphere. There would be no surprises this time. When either the Empress or Hamsterviel came to lay siege to the planet, I would be ready.

I hadn't spoken with anyone since the broadcast ...actually, I hadn't even left my laboratory. Hours must have passed—I wasn't sure. Who knows, maybe It had been more than that. Maybe it was days.

The lab was dark. Since I hadn't bothered turning on the lights I didn't really see much point in doing anything else.

My claws drummed nervously on my desk. Funny, I thought I would feel different. I was numb all over. Then again...maybe feeling nothing is in itself feeling something... unfortunately I never had a chance to finish my thought. Because at that exact moment I screamed as I felt an icy hand on my shoulder.

Madly I spun around in my chair, grabbing hold of an empty coffee cup, ready to strike whoever was there.

"What?"

The coffee cup fell from my hands and shattered on the floor as I realized whom It was I was looking at.

"Presley?"

With a wide smirk, my late brother raised a molted paw and gave me an enthusiastic wave. "Hey bro, miss me?"

I stumbled in my chair as If trying to sink into the cushion to escape this wretched apparition.

No! It couldn't be. He was gone! Yet there was, exactly as I had remembered him in prison. Presley stood there smiling with his dark blue fur caked with blood and dried grave soil, his flesh flaked and sagging, his lifeless eyes glazed over with death; and of course the hole—that damn hole! The gaping hole in the pit of his stomach so wide I could see right through it to the other side of the room.

I was struck dumb by terror. Words seemed to paralyze in my throat.

Presley seemed disappointed by this less than warm welcome—but that didn't rattle his confidence too much. Funny, he actually believed I was genuinely happy to see him.

"How's it hanging?" He asked as if it he hadn't just risen from the dead.

I stammered, struggling to answer. In the end I came up with this genius response:

"Puh-Presley?"

Smirking he spread his arms wide and looked himself up and down. "Yeah, sure looks like me."

"I don't..." Closing my eyes I pressed my hand against my forehead. "I don't know what to say."

He thought it over for a moment. "Well, how about nice to see you."

I groaned and turned away from him, my palms pressing hard against my closed eyes. "No...this isn't right. I've been down here too long in the dark...you're not supposed to be here." I froze when I heard a strange rattling coming from somewhere in the laboratory. What next? At any moment was I going to be surrounded by dead arms? Violently I shook my head back and forth. "No...not again!"

He chuckled. "Well enough chitter-chatter, I just wanted to," he stopped short when he saw a picture of 628 I had placed on my desk. Whistling he lifted the frame between his filthy paws and looked on the picture with some kind of demented undead lust. "Whoa...who's this?"

I growled and tried to snatch the picture away but he held just out of my grasp.

"That's my Buchie-Boo," I told him as I once again tried to liberate the frame—but failed.

Presley gawked at the photo, then up at me, then down at the photo again, then back up to me. "You're hitting this?" He asked, tapping a claw down on the glass window. Presley laughed. "No way. No fucking way." He spared 628 another glance. "You could never get a girl like this."

I slumped in my chair. "Yes well, she would disagree. No give that back!" I made another desperate grab for it. I didn't like the way he kept staring at her.

"Now hold on,"he said, taking a few steps back. "Lets talk this out. Tell me about her."

I growled in frustration. "You're a figment of my imagination. You already know everything about her!"

I put my head down on my desk and tried to ignore him, but somehow his nagging voice had a way of getting under my skin until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Presley... go away."

When I looked up he was gone.

I gave out a loud sigh of relief. There was nothing but the peace and sanctuary of my laboratory. I looked down at my desk and spotted and big puddle of drool. _Hmm, _I thought._ Odd...could I have been dreaming the whole thing? _Well, it certainly seemed likely. It suddenly occurred to me that I must have fallen asleep at my computer and dreamed the whole thing...at least, I was desperately hoping....

"Who are you talking to?"

I jumped and whirled around. 628 came stalking out of the darkness. I hadn't even heard her come in.

"Who were you talking to?" Her great black eyes searched the laboratory expecting to find someone hiding in the shadows.

Although I'll admit I was glad to see her, I wheeled my chair around so she was staring at the back of it, and not at me.

"I wasn't talking to anybody," I told her. My voice was cold and uncaring. My fingers began drumming on my desk again in a nervous twitch. I swore I could hear the slithering of dead flesh against steel. This same thing had happened before: back in the infirmary while I spoke with Dr. Ira. These hallucinations had come to me then, and now it seemed as if they might be coming back. But why? I wasn't sick anymore...was I?

"Simon?" 628 placed her hand on my chair and spun me around. I turned away but she grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. "Simon."

I sighed. "What do you want 628? I'm busy."

Her hand fell from from my chin and she backed away. "I see."Her gazed brushed other the computer screen. With a blink the computer went blank, plunging the laboratory in complete darkness. Then everything was suddenly illuminated as the lights were switched on. I groaned and rubbed my eyes as the inexplicable brightness nearly blinded me. 628 pulled the chair closer to her. "Alright. Now we can talk."

I grumbled. "I don't want to talk."

628 was very calm and understanding (very unlike her) "Fine. If you won't talk then you're going to listen." She finished the rest of her sentence by speaking directly into my mind. _'One way or another.'_

I said nothing.

However 628 seemed to have a lot to say.

"Simon..." she paused and again had to lift my chin up. "I know what you're going through. This is hard for everyone, but you can't just bury yourself down here. It's not healthy."

I nodded. "I know...it's just that," I turned around to face my supercomputer and ran my claws over the keyboard. "I'm good at this stuff...research...working...thinking....always have been. Things seem so much simpler when you're working..." I smiled a little. "I remember when I used to come down here to hide from my brothers...I was alone but...I didn't care. I could spend days with my experiments and be off in my own little word. None of this mattered...it was just me...and the work." I sighed. "Things were so much simpler back then.....I never should have made Chemical 606...if it wasn't for that I would never have gone to prison....I wouldn't be a part of any of this." I came dangerously close to telling her everything. My master plan. How I had been sent to prison. How I was number one on so many people's "Must Die List"....but I didn't...after all—I'm a coward by nature.

628 licked my face. "I know...but then, we might never have ended up together."

I smiled. That was true...if any good had come out of this; it was that I had met 628, and had finally experienced love.

628 looked up at the darkness. "Something big is going to happen," she said. "I can feel it."

I nodded. "Yeah...something big."

Then something happened. 628 must have heard something strange in my voice or maybe some of my deeper thoughts had accidentally leaked over mental link—either way, she suddenly looked sad.

"You're going to leave aren't you?"

My mouth fell open but no words came out. I was stunned. How could she have been so sure? Desperately I tried to think of something before I finally gave in.

"Yeah...probably."

Her big black eyes found the floor before they finally looked back at me. The next thing I knew I was standing and she was very close to me.

"Then I guess I'll never have to live this down," she said in my ear.

"Whu—what are you—" But that's as far as I got. Because then she was kissing me as she never had before. It was sudden, warm, and _electric_.

Closing my eyes, I wrapped one arm around her waist as the other head rested on the back of her head. I expected it to stop now—like it always did. Every time we kissed we always pulled away before it lead anywhere—or rather, _628 _always pulled away. But this time she didn't, and, I was even more surprised when I found myself on my back with her on top of me (figures_ she_ would be on top.) Oh, I couldn't help myself. By now—er—uh...how should I put this? The blood in my body was running a little south of the border....erm...yeah. That should do it. I tried to pull away, afraid she might be offended but if anything it seemed to encouraged her.

For some reason I was trying my best to hold in any moans that might escape my mouth—some insecure part of me seemed to think if she saw that I was enjoying this contact, she might think I was some kind of pervert—but I could feel the heat from her body pressed up against me. Dammit I couldn't help it!

I moaned a little.

I waited for the inevitable rejection—but it didn't come. For a peculiar reason she seemed glad that I was enjoying this...was it possible...that she wanted this to happen as much as I did? That this wasn't something she was forced to do for the male of the relationship. The way Elvis talked I sometimes assumed sex was just for the man. Now it didn't seem that way. This was for both of us.

"Simon..."

My heart jumped when she said my name. It was how I knew, at that moment, she was talking to me and no one else. It sent a spike of excitement through my body.

I wanted to try something, but cowardice was holding me back. But then she grind up against me and I couldn't stop myself. I moved my mouth away from her and began licking her neck. I could feel her body go rigid. Her eyes closed tightly, and a noise came deep from her throat.

Hey. I did something right. Who'da thunk it?

I Tried this for a little while longer before I started moving my hands through her silky beige fur which was now slick with sweat. Kissing her again, I ran my claws down her back. This time she moaned and arched her body.

I was just silently congratulating myself for two lucky guesses when I felt her paw on my stomach. It stayed there for a mount, rubbing in concentric circles, before it went lower and lower until—

Well—er—you get the picture. Forgive me if I was little descriptive...I guess I was just a little overly excited. After all. You don't have sex for the first time every day.

For the rest of it I was in a haze. We were connected in a way I never could have imagined. The whole world seemed to be obliterated. There was nothing. No Elvis. No Empress. No Argon 7...it was just me—and her.

I admit it didn't last long—but it was amazing!

Afterwards we stayed with each other on the laboratory floor, which had long since been warmed by the heat of our bodies. We stayed there together for I don't know how long. As I lay next to 628 I tried to gauge all the feelings rushing through my body. First the heat was all-consuming, my heart was a steady _pounding _in my chest—not racing, but pounding. For some reason I could only breathe through my mouth (peculiar I know) and my whole being seemed to be filled with this—how do I describe this?....This—this sort of _glow_. An _after-glow_.

I could have stayed there forever...

Steadily the whole of reality began to seep into focus. Eventually we found ourselves back at Lilo's house where we both crawled onto the couch and slept the rest of the day with our arms around each other. Unfortunately...I should have stayed down there a little while longer. If I had... I might have been there to hear the alarm go off...

* * *

**Alius111: **Hey everybody, long time no see. Good news, my laptop is fixed and I have found all my old notes. With a little bit of luck I should be updating every two weeks or so. I know this chapter is kind of short, but it's getting me back into the groove of the story. The next chapter is hwere it all goes down and everything starts coming together.

Have a good one.


	28. Hamsterviel Attacks!

**Simon's Experiments II**

**By Alius111**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Hamsterviel Attacks!**

Deep in the black void of space, the Grand Councilwoman—newly christened the Empress of the United Universe, stood vigilantly in her observation tower aboard her colossal battleship, the_ Imperial_. When talking in sheer size and power, the Imperial is a juggernaut of science. The tip of the craft—which completely dwarfed the moon-sized B.R.B 9000, would appear from the surface of Planet Turo, as a massive black spear large enough to cast a shadow over an entire city. If you were floating above it, you would see that the body of the ship started wide and steadily narrowed as it approaches the front of the craft. Its hull appears to be a cupola shell sitting a top a flat surface, and set deep into the center of the shell is a wide triangular crevice that spans the width and length of the ship. And in this crevice is what appears to be an immense city of black steel and glimmering lights, with towers and domes built so close together there is no space separating them. At the back of the ship, above the eight titanic thrusters which constantly surge with a blood energy, sits three broad towers that loom over the shinning city below. Atop the tallest of theses structures, situated above the bridge, is a thin spire with a circular room. This is the Empress's Observation Spire. Her seat of power.

From her the window which spans the length of the room, her battleship and the city built on it seemed to go on forever. When looking to the left or right, the left and right side of the triangular ship are far away enough to appear as horizons in the distance over countless miles of towers and blue steel. To her, the design of the Imperial is long, sleek, and intimidating. Surely this was the largest, and most powerful ship ever built in galactic history. The Imperial was her fist, her symbol of fear, proof of her dominance over the entire galaxy. Behind her was nothing but the glow of red light from below and empty space. Before her was a black mega-metropolis alight with the glow from countless windows. This ship was her herald. When a planet's people would suddenly find their province cast in a dark shadow, they would gaze up into the sky in horror as the Imperial's spear-shaped bow penetrated the clouds. This ship itself was too big to land on any planet without crushing a continent bigger than the whole of Russia, but with the firepower and the military forces that it had in its arsenal—it didn't need to.

Besides, the Imperial had a secret weapon. Although construction of the Imperial had begun over a hundred years ago, and the ship had only been declared operational a month after Simon's escape from Prison-Asteroid K-37; there had been a last minute addition to the Imperial. A project that began shortly after Simon's imprisonment and one that was finished a month after Simon handed over the final Blue-Prints for the ship's super-weapon.

The Imperial had at its heart, a reactor capable of generating unthinkable energy (Simon's design) this reactor was in fact what could best be described as a manufactured star harnessed as a weapon. This rector was confined in a specialized containment field to keep its immense gravity from sucking the ship into oblivion.

The Reactor was a limitless supply of energy, as whatever power it expelled it would eventually replace. In fact, if the weapon was not used for a prolonged period, the excess energy would have to be released from an emergency hatch at the bottom of the Imperial or the Reactor would overload and burst, acting as a molecular-explosive with enough force to annihilate all matter in a cluster of small galaxies.

The Imperial's ultimate weapon was in short, a gun. A massive cannon that appeared out the front of the Imperial as its tip opened like a gaping maw to reveal its trump card. They had used similar theories in powering their cities and weapons, but never at such a magnitude. Shortly after its creation, the gun had earned the name '_the Sun-killer_' which was in short, what it was. (Some of the staff had even come to nickname it '_the Armageddon Gun'_)

If the need arose, the Sun-Killer could be used to destroy a single planet, but, if a more _drastic_ course of action was called for—it was capable of destroying a system's sun or neighboring star to make sure nothing in that system survived (of course the second option was done at a great distance, and sometimes took days to get the appropriate calculations from the nava-computer.) Nevertheless, the Imperial was a terror like nothing the galaxy had ever seen. And it was now in the hands of the Empress, who was more than willing to use its power to annihilate her enemies.

All that was needed was the right opportunity. She had to be cautious. Powerful as it was, the Sun-Killer took thirty days to recharge to full capacity after a single use. But even with the Sun-Killer disabled, the Imperial's deflector shield and the billions of plasma cannons hidden around the hull kept it an overwhelming force.

And now, the Empress stood in her observation deck with the entire universe before her. Hamsterviel was weak, and Fletcher's hidden planet would eventually be found. When it was, the Imperial would wipe him out and remove the last real threat to the Empire.

And the one person she had to thank for this was the one person she was most anxious to track down and eliminate. Whether he would remember designing it or not remained to be seen, but if Simon did regain his memories, he would have a complete schematic and technical read-out of the Empire's ultimate weapon. It was a vulnerability she couldn't allow to go unchecked. To that effect, she had summoned the commander of the Galactic Armada who now knelt before her with his head bowed in respect.

Something had been puzzling the newly-elected Empress. Something she couldn't figure out, like a spike driven in the back her head, slowly driving her mad.

"Commander," said the Empress, her voice as firm and cold as ever. "I want a status report. My patience has worn thin. Have your agents located Simon Pelekai or not?"

The Commander, who was a diminutive Alien with yellow skin and beady little eyes, gulped and fidgeted before her intense stare.

"No your Majesty," he admitted. "We don't know where he's gone. The escape pods jettisoned from the B.R.B 9000 before its detonation were all decoys. Only one was unaccounted for but it was quickly found in the junk-cities on Pharimius. Its homing beacon had been removed. Eye witnesses tell us that the fugitive attacked two civilians and then purchased a ship from a junk dealer. The Junk Dealer's testimony was that the ship was in poor working order....it is possible—however unlikely—he did not survive the journey."

The Empress didn't blink, didn't even move.

"He is alive, Commander," she said with dead-certainty. "What about Earth, then? Surely we raided his home planet?"

The Commander suddenly looked _very_ uncomfortable. "Um....I believe you led the search party to that planet yourself your Highness—unless I'm very much mistaken."

"Hmm," the Empress turned away from the Commander to stare out into the emptiness of space. "Yes...I checked the Ship's Log and it confirmed this. On the date of 011-232-10104, I led a tactical squadron to Area 51 of the 17th Quadrant to conduct a search of the planet Earth....how _peculiar_ that I have no memory of this." Her hand began petting her cane as she raised her eye ridges. "In fact...every time I try to remember this particular time in my life I see nothing but a _blinding orange _light in my mind." She looked away from the window and stared down at the leader of her armada. "What do you make of this Commander?"

He shook his head, beads of sweat running down his forehead as he spoke. "I—I—I don't know your Majesty..."

The Empress frowned and turned back to gaze into space. A horrible silence fallowed in which the Commander of the Imperial Armada wished he would just die. As the persistent quiet stretched on, he thought about leaping out an airlock and putting an end to this torture. Anything would be better than this. His knees ached from kneeling so long and he so wished to be back in his captain's chair, barking orders to his first lieutenant. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he jumped when the Empress finally broke the silence and declared their next course of action.

"Set a course for Earth."

XXXX

628 and I had just walked through the front door to our home, had just _barely_ stepped over the threshold, when I knew something wasn't right. 628 seemed to know it too because she had gone dead silent and was starring down at the floor.

With 628 at my heels, I ran into the hallway and jumped onto the platform as it immediately began to descend to my lab. We weren't even half way down the shaft when I heard the blaring of the alarm. Not even waiting for the elevator to stop, I climbed down from the moving platform and ran to my supercomputer as fast as my legs would carry me.

"What's going on Simon!?" 628 yelled.

I ignored her. The massive computer screen gave off a pulsating red light and as I approached, P.H.I.L'S robotic voice announced,

"WARNING, PROXIMETY ALER! WARNING, PROXIMETY ALERT."

"No,No,No!" I shouted as I began typing. But I was too late. As I looked up at the projected image of the space around earth, I was filled with dread. Hundreds—thousands of spaceships had formed a blockade around Hawaii's airspace. Without even thinking I turned off the computer and ran for the vault.

"Where are you going?!" 628 screamed as she fallowed after me.

"I need to get to Experiment O!" I told her as I quickly typed in my access code.

The heavy steel doors immediately opened and I rushed into the vault, careening around shelves upon shelves of gadgets and smoldering experiments. The lights above fallowed my progress across the room, each one switching on as I ran underneath them. Finally I reached the back of the room and stood before a seemingly innocent shelf of empty test tubes. With 628 staring on in wonder, I pulled on an empty test tube and stood back as the wall opened to reveal a door. At the center of the door were two retina scanners and a keypad. Usually both Jumba and I would need to be here, but what he didn't know was that I had created a way of getting into the Strong-Room if I couldn't reach him in time.

"Computer!" I said loudly with my arms crossed behind my back. "This is Simon Pelekai initiating emergency over-ride code delta. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged." Came the Computer's monotone response.

I waited as the steel door opened with a hiss of escaping air. Behind it was an elevator that would take me deep into the Earth's crust—to the Strong-Room, where Jumba and I guarded our most dangerous Experiments. I stepped onto the elevator and 628 fallowed.

Moments later the passage to the Strong-Room opened and we hurried inside, pausing to stand in front of a table in the center of the room. Even though we were so near the earth's mantle, the Simonanium walls that encased this fortress kept it icy cold. On this table were three things. The small clamp where we kept Experiment 627's pod, the empty bell-jar where 628's pod had been and....something I hadn't seen in almost two years.

Slowly I reached out and grasped Experiment O's small white pod. It was roughly the size of a golf ball and had the letters E-O inscribed on its face in big black letters.

628 leaned in to get a better look. "Is....is that it?"

I nodded my head. "Yes....this is Experiment O."

XXXX

Back up in the vault, 628 watched quietly as I slipped back into my dark tan trench coat—the one I had stolen on my first day out of prison, and pulled on the pair of black jeans Elvis had given me for my birthday. Without speaking I grabbed a thick brown belt and had 628 strap it around my waist. On this belt were four holster. Two in front, and two in the back. The two in front carried a pair of plasma guns, and the two in the back carried the reassembled parts of Acervus's plasma rifle—the one that had been able to kill my brother Presley. It was too long to carry as a whole, so I modified it so it could be broken into two separate pieces then reassembled when needed. And as an added measure I fastened a steel wristband that had a small screen and keyboard around my left forearm.

"What's that?" 628 asked, starring at the device around my arm.

"A mini-supercomputer," I said pulling my coat sleeve over the device, effectively hiding it from the world.

The earth suddenly gave a violent shutter and with a warm heart, I stowed my creation's experiment pod in my inside breast pocket and beckoned 628 to fallow. The vault door's groaned as they shut behind us, plunging the room into an impenetrable darkness. I left my laboratory.... not sure if I was ever going to see it again.

XXXX

The whole process had taken twenty minutes. Too long, far too long.

By the time 628 and I stood before the front door, ready to make a run for it. We could hear explosions rumbling in the distance. With a blink 628 blasted the door apart and we both ran out onto the front porch, me with a plasma cannon raised, and 628 with her fists alight with pulsating blue energy. However what greeted us immediately robbed us both of any inertia we might have had.

"Oh my god..." 628 put her hand to her mouth. I, however, was too stunned to speak.

It was near sunset and the sky was set aflame by a blazing orange light. Thousands of Hamsterviel's ships filled the sky like large black stars. Off in the distance, battleships hovered closer to the earth firing off streams of plasma into the heart of the city. Although 628 and I were miles away, we could hear people screaming as they ran for their lives—it was a sound I was all too familiar with.

"What-what do we do Simon?" 628 stammered as a burst of flames mushroomed into the sky miles ahead of us.

"We need to get to Lilo's," I said and took off down the front steps. "We need to regroup with my father and the others."

As we neared the trail that would take us to Lilo's, we heard what sounded like a seismic blast from an overlarge fog-horn. The sounds of the explosions had drowned it out but now that we were closer, the alarm rang true over the island.

"That's Yaarp's alarm!" 628 said from a little farther ahead. She was too fast, I couldn't keep up. I was about to tell her to wait when when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she grabbed me by the shoulders and heaved me to the ground.

"Get down!" She screamed.

"What!?" I looked over my shoulder and felt my blood run cold. One of the ships had broken lose from the main group and was heading right for us. As I watched, the ship swerved lower to the ground, its hull tearing the tops off palm trees as it flew by. I knew it was one of Hamsterviel's ships. I could see the massive yellow 'H' on its bow from where I sat.

I tried to get up but 628 forced me back down into the dirt. I hit the ground just in time to hear the sound of a plasma cannon splitting the air as it fired.

628's eyes glowed a bright orange and she thrust our her hands. The two balls of plasma suddenly careened off course and barreled back towards the ship. They struck with an earsplitting explosion that ripped the right thruster from the stern, sending the whole battleship plummeting to the ground in a screaming wreck.

Its metal body struck the earth in a tremendous cloud of dust and fire; the momentum it gained while in the air sent it tearing a huge scar across the earth.

I knew it wouldn't stop in time. It was going to crush us.

Already panting from the effort she once again shoved her hands out in front of her as if pushing against an invisible barrier only she could see. Her eyes glowed orange and I watched the ship for any sign that it was slowing.

The ground shook beneath us as the ship tore through the ground at full speed. 628's face was pulled into a pained expression, like the effort of this was actually killing her. Her little feet dug deep crevices into the dirt as the force of her own mind drove her back. Though her eyes were closed tight, I could still see slits of orange burning under her lids. She let out a cry and dropped to her knees but refused to let her arms fall. I began to panic—the ship was only thirty feet away and it still hadn't slowed! As I watched, crimson colored fur began to bleed across her beige coat as if someone were spilling a bucket of red paint down her body. It was too close! I shut my eyes as we were consumed in a cloud of dust.

_30feet...20feet....10feet!_

"Too late!" I jumped to the ground and wrapped my arms around my head.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" With a great cry, 628 forced her hands up into the air.

As if gravity had begun working in reverse, the ships flaming hull was hurled into the sky and did a sort of _leap-frog_ over our bodies. Flipping like a massive coin, it soared across the clearing, a flaming chunk of what used to be a ship. I looked up just in time to see it land on our house which was instantly demolished in an eruption of fire and twisted metal.

I turned away from the wreck and quickly jumped to my feet. 628 was on the ground.

"628!" I fell to my knees beside her limp body and gently put my hands on her face. "628! Wake up! Talk to me!" Streaks of red fur webbed across her body, almost completely blotting out that soft beige color I had come to know. A single maroon tentacle had sprouted from her forehead and just laid limp on the ground with its sharpened black tip wiggling slowly. It was strange—it was if her true form was taking over. I didn't know what to do! Even though she was out cold, I could still see the burning orange light glowing like pools of lava from her partially opened eyes. I could still hear Yaarp's alarm going off, but was all the more disturbed when it was suddenly silenced. I tried one more time to wake 628. When she didn't come around I knew I had no choice but to leave. I looked down at her one last time before running for the trail leading into the woods.

I didn't look back as the clearing vanished from sight. I couldn't. I felt guilty about leaving 628 but her life wasn't in danger. She was indestructible, she would be fine. She would have wanted me to get to the others before it was too late.

As I ran down the trail, my trench coat flapping behind me, I ran a mental check of everyone in the Ohana:

Nani would have been getting off of work by now. Judging by position of the sun, either she or David would have been picking up Kale from daycare. If not, David might be working over time at the louwow.

Jumba....wasn't in the lab, he barely left the house. He was probably there and Pleakley was almost certainly with him,.

Aaron....I had no idea where he would be. There was supposed to be a Star Wars marathon on tonight. I could only hope he had stayed in to watch it.

Lilo...Lilo had a part-time job at Sunset Videos. She was the rewind girl. She would have been off work by now and on her way home.

My Dad....Dad had to be with Lilo! He had to be! They never separate! They even sleep in the same fucking room! They're always together! I was reasonably sure that by the time I made it to the house I would find them all at the house, safe and sound, having a nice cup of hot chocolate—alright that was probably hoping for too much.

The closer I got to the house, the more I wished this was some horrible nightmare (I was known to have some pretty vivid ones every now and then.) How could I have been so stupid!? I shouldn't have left my computer—not even for a second! If I hadn't stopped to fuck 628, I would have seen this before it happened. Now because of me my family could be dead!

A loud beeping from my wristband brought me to a skidding halt. Anxiously I pulled back my sleeve and stared into the small screen. There was someone trying to contact me. It was hard to make out because of all the static in the picture. I scrunched my face and tried to make out the image. It kind of looked like.....

"Fletcher!" I yelled into the screen.

"Yeah it's me kid," Fletcher called through the static. If I focused I could almost see the glint of his face-plate. "Looks like you're in some real trouble, Kid. Hamsterviel found out you were here before we had a chance to tell 'em."

"I don't care!" I told him. "Where are you!? I need to get out of here, I need to get him to fallow me."

The image went white for a moment before Fletcher's voice broke through the hallow buzz. "We're just getting ready to fire up the ship. We woulda been there sooner, but the Hyper-drives is fucked. We had to fix it."

I groaned and pressed the screen against my forehead. "How long will it take you to get here?"

"Computer says...three Earth days.."

"What!? Three days!?"

Before Fletcher could respond, the image was drown by static and the signal went dead, but not before Fletcher was able to call out one last message:

"We're coming—but you're on your own for now Kid..."

I sighed and pulled my sleeve back over the device. I could feel the lump of Experiment O's pod against my chest and thought of my father. Looking up past the smoldering sky and into the heart of Hamsterviel's fleet, I thought:

_No...I'm not alone. _

_XXXX_

Frowning, the Empress sat on her throne starring coldly out the observation screen as the Imperial soared through Hyperspace. The Galaxy around her swirled in a mass a shimmering colors—all the stars, the nebula's, and all the planets mixed together in one iridescent whirlpool of light. It's bright, vibrant chaos almost seemed to reflect her state of mind.

Not fifteen minutes after she had declared the order to move the fleet to Earth, the Empire had received intelligence that Hamsterviel's army had amassed around Area 51 and were heading on a direct course to Simon's home planet. She knew it. Simon _was _there. Whatever trick he pulled to save himself last time wouldn't work now. Along with Simon, the Empress knew what other prize waited for her on that backwater little planet:

Experiment O.

Finally, at long last. Ever since her agents had received an anonymous tip and confirmation of its existence, the Empress had been obsessed with the idea of finding Experiment O. No doubt that's what Hamsterviel was after as well. It had become a race now. Experiment O and Simon sat on top of a shinning pyramid and both she and Hamsterviel were running up the steps with their hands outstretched. It was now only a matter of who got it first. If Hamsterviel captured it first—perish the thought—he would destroy everything the Empress had worked so hard to build. It was vital that Empire gain custody over the Experiment—because if it could do everything its file said it could—she could have an entire _army_ of Imperials and that thing would eventually evolve to be strong enough to tear through them. It was truly...a _fascinating_ creature. To have both the Sun-Killer and Experiment O would make the Empire—_her_ Empire, truly _all-powerful_.

She allowed herself a tiny smile.

They would be there in three Earth days....

XXXX

When I finally arrived at the house, out of breath and gasping for air, I was surprised to see Jumba's massive red ship looming over the house—the ship Elvis had taken off with. My hand subconsciously wandered to the Experiment-Killing-Weapon dismantled in my back holsters._ Elvis! Is he here now? Where is he? Maybe this is my chance! _I shook these thoughts from my head. _No. I have to find my family. _Desperately I looked around the yard but there was no one. The battle still waged around the island. My eyes fallowed a spaceship as it flew in arc through the sky before it vanished below the trees in another part of the city. It looked like the other experiments were fighting back.

I started climbing up the front steps but paused to look up into the sky. Only some of the ships were attacking. The others were just floating high up in the clouds.

_Hamsterviel is in one of those, _I thought. I pulled my gaze away from the sky and ran for the front door. The house looked dark but I hoped it was because they were hiding while my Dad went out to protect the island.

When I reached the top step I didn't even bother opening the door. Instead I ran as fast as I could and dove straight through the dog-door's plastic flap, landing on the other side with a hard thud.

"Lilo!" I called as I ran around the living room. It was deserted. "Nani! Jumba!" I peeked under the sofa just to make sure. Nothing. Hopelessly I stood in the center of the living room, unsure of what to do next. I was certain they would be here—but they weren't. Worry and guilt gnawed at my insides, shame filling me like a cancer. "Hello!" I called out one last time. "Is anyone there?"

"I'm here..."

My ears dropped. There was someone standing in the darkness of the kitchen, someone I didn't recognize. Whatever it was it was, skinny, and wrapped in what looked like a military-style cloak. A large black hood hid its face, but I wasn't even trying to see who this was. My eyes instantly went to the big gold 'H' clasp on his front.

Quickly I backed towards the door, my hands fumbling for one of my plasma-guns. "Who are you?" I tried my best to sound intimidating but my shaking hand lent little to the affect. "Where are they?"

The thing didn't answer me, it just stood there, not moving, starring at me. I didn't care anymore—if this thing worked for Hamsterviel then I was going to kill it. I went to pull the the trigger but the next thing I knew the gun had been knocked from my hand and I was forced up against the door. I gagged as a bony but powerful fist closed around my throat.

_The thing was fast!_

"I'll take you to them."

_XXXX_

"Well, well, well," Hamsterviel patted his fingers together in a archetypal fashion. "What do we have here? Could it be the miserably miserable loser of the game, perhaps?"

I glared hatefully at Hamsterviel. That thing in the house had wasted no time in taking me to Hamsterviel's flagship once he had me. I looked around. I was in what appeared to be some kind of observation deck. Behind Hamsterviel was a massive window from where I could see the ocean. The carnage on the island had been left behind. The room was large and rectangular, an upper balcony, like a second level, ran along the expanse of the walls. Even here, the deranged Doctor had hung long red drapes from the ceiling with his signature 'H' on each one. There were only two exits leading from this deck—the one behind me, and the other which was to the left, shadowed by one of the higher metal walkways. The thing that had kidnapped me stood vigilantly by Hamsterviel's side, waiting for his word to strike. My weapons, and everything else I had carried with me from my lab, lay on a nearby table, having been confiscated immediately after I arrived. The only thing they didn't have was Experiment O's pod. Shortly after capture, I was able to hide E-O's pod in the back of my throat. All Experiments—or at least the 600 series—have a hallow in the back of our mouths, which is how we're able to reach into our stomachs and pull out whatever we've ingested.

Hamsterviel giggled emphatically. "So, Simon, how does it feel losing to my colossal brain?" He laughed again as he approached. "You see it is_ I_ who have triumphed—" he stopped short when he realized how short he was compared to me . Snapping his fingers he summoned a soldier who marched in with what appeared to be a baby's high chair. With the soldier's help, he was able to climb up and stand on the food tray. "Now. As I was saying." Hamsterviel straightened his cape. "It is_ I_ who have triumphed!" He thrust a finger into the air. "Your puny little experiments have failed and now I'm here to take what's mine." Crossing his arms he glared at me with his beady red eyes. "I am tired of waiting so I'm only going to ask this once—Where is Experiment O?"

I shrugged. "No idea."

"DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME!" Hamsterviel shrieked. "I want that _experiment_! WHERE IS IT!? WHERE IS IT!?"

I shook my head. "Beats me."

The Doctor clenched his fists. "Very well then. Perhaps you will respond to a more persuasive form of persuasion...."looking smug, he crossed his arms and was apparently waiting for something to happen. But when nothing did, Hamsterviel banged his fists against his head and shrieked at the door, "HEY! You were _supposed _to bring THE PRISONER'S IN!"

"Sorry."

I looked to left my left. A large mechanical globe hovered into the room. Sprouting from the sphere were five metal, spider-like legs, each ending a grey cap that sealed off their own yellow containment pod. The chambers slowly rotated around the globe like some kind of demented carousel. Inside these tubes were my family. After I had tried so hard to get to them—Hamsterviel had gotten to them first.

My eyes went wide when I saw who was leading this machine.

"Elvis..."

Yes, it was my brother. It seemed he made good on his promise and ratted me out to Hamsterviel. As I watched him come to stand next to the deranged doctor, I was filled with a fresh wave of hate for him. I couldn't believe it, he sold out his family, put them all in danger, just to get to me. Elvis noticed me watching, smirked, and gave me a little nod. I growled, imagining all the horrible things I would do to him when I was free from these shackles. My eyes wandered over to the table where my experiment-killing weapon lay.

"Simon!" Lilo yelled, pressing her hands against the inside of the glass. And she wasn't the only one. Nani stood horrified in the tube next to her hold a squirming Kale in her arms. David—who was knocked unconscious with blood trickling down his forehead—was oblivious to everything around him. However Pleakley and Aaron were both wide awake and banging against the glass. Still, something peculiar caught my eye—Jumba and my Dad weren't with them...

"Hey, let me out of here!" Aaron yelled. Elvis frowned and raised a small remote he had clasped in his hand. Aaron screamed as a current of electricity surged through his body and fell silent.

I growled. "Hamster-wheel, leave them out of this!"

"Oh, I'm so deliciously evil," Hamsterviel said, rubbing his paws together. "Your brother was kind enough to supply me with your location."

Elvis smirked. "Glad I could help."

"And now," He was giddy by now. "You will tell me where Experiment O is, or watch your family die!"

Elvis faltered. "What?" He looked up at Hamsterviel. "You didn't say anything about killing them."

Hamsterviel ignored him. "And it's pronounced Hamster-VEEL!" he added. "You furry little miscreant."

"I..." From inside the pods, the conscious members of the ohana stared at me in a hopeless silence. What could I do? For a brief moment, the thought of sacrificing them to save the billions that would die if Hamsterviel got Experiment O crossed my mind—but I quickly banished the notion.

"Don't do it Simon!" Lilo pressed her face against the glass. "Don't worry, Stitch will save us!"

"Lilo..." I frowned. He had me. When I looked up, Hamsterviel was watching me impatiently; the thing beside him had its plasma cannon pulled and seemed ready to kill. "I..." I looked from Hamsterviel—to Lilo—then back at Hamsterviel. My dad wouldn't get here in time. Right now—wherever he was—he couldn't save them....but I could. I wouldn't let anything happen to them because of my mistake.

"Alright..."I whispered.

Hamsterviel cried out with glee.

Closing my eyes, I reached into the back of my throat and removed Experiment O's pod from my mouth.

Seemingly on the verge of an orgasm, Hamsterviel held out his hands like a child begging for candy as his henchman snatched the pod and handed it to him.

"Finally!" Hamsterviel held the pod up in the air. For a moment he held it close to his heart and caressed it like it were something very precious to him. Elvis quickly rushed forward with a glass of water and held it before Hamsterviel's nose. "At last," he said, dangling the pod over the glass. "With Experiment O, I will conquer the galaxy!" I could see his tiny little fingers shivering in anticipation of this moment. I knew how long he must have dreamed of this, how long he yearned for it, and I have to admit, I was a little anxious to see my experiment again too...Hamsterviel smiled one last time, "Say hello to your new king!" And dropped it.

Happening in almost slow-motion, the pod slipped from his fingers and plunged into the ice cold liquid. Everyone in the room leaned forward to see what would happen. We all watched as the ball hit the bottom with a minuet _clunk._ They were all holding their breath, the tension growing! Hamsterviel was shaking so badly the glass started to quiver until—until—until......

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Hamsterviel looked furious.

"What is this!" He screamed, looking down at me with a murderous glare.

I frowned. "You have to say the password."

Hamsterviel considered me for a moment before commanding Elvis to give me the glass. With a solemn expression, I held it in both hands.

Staring deep into the glass, I raised it to my mouth, almost as if I intended to drink from it.

"Oh..." Hamsterviel rubbed his paws together. "I can only_ imagine _what cryptic message you have bestowed to keep the experiment safe."

I rolled my eyes and whispered to the water, as quietly as I could, "Elvis stinks." (A little anticlimactic I know, but, it was what had been on my mind at that particular time.)

The effect was instantaneous.

The glass in my hand shattered as a blinding white light erupted from the pod. The ball of light rose into the air, glowing brighter and brighter before it finally exploded in one brilliant _flash. _The force of the shock wave threw me, elvis and the cloaked thing onto our backs and sent us sliding across the floor. Hamsterviel gave out a shriek as his highchair toppled over. Behind us the glass tubes blew apart and everyone was sent sprawling to the floor. I shielded my eyes from the light. It was like some massive rip in space-time was spewing out wind and bolts of electricity. From outside, Hamsterviel's ship would look like it had been filled with a radiant glow. The phenomenon felt like it lasted for minutes but faded away a mere thirty seconds after I had spoken the password. When it finally died down, I looked from behind my sleeve...

It was like I was back in my lab again, starring anxiously into the smoke-filled fusion chamber. I remember the encounter so well. Experiment O's big black eyes staring at me from the other side of the glass was clear as water in my mind. I remember he had been alive long enough for me to tell him his name. I was the first and last thing he saw before being plunged into darkness for two years—it was impossible to predict how he was going to behave.

Experiment O stood a little over three feet tall. His fur was pure white with slightly darker shades spread up his front and around his eyes. His body was lean an muscular, a perfect machine created especially to harness his immense powers. Four white spines with black tips hung from his back, slowly wriggling back and forth as if caught in a breeze. The black tentacles on his forehead almost reached his eyes which were now staring blankly at the floor. He stood in the center of a circular scorch mark, his arms and body limp, quietly breathing through his mouth.

"YES!" Hamsterviel hopped to his feet. "Oh he is so _beautiful!" _He then smiled wickedly. "Finally, the experiment is mine! Ultimate power is mine!" the doctor surveyed his enemies, a strange twinkling springing up in his eyes. "I admit in the past you have all been amusing foes," (he had been looking at Lilo the whole time) "but now it is time to close this rivalry once and for all! This time nothing and no one will stand in my way as I lead the glorious revolution against the Empire! Not EVEN—"

A loud explosion suddenly split the room. The door behind me melted in a burst of smoke and dripping alloy. Astonished, I stared into the blackness as my Father accompanied by Jumba ran into the room, plasma blasters raised. It looked like the cavalry had finally arrived.

"Stitch!" Lilo cried, pure joy shone on her face.

"Lilo!" My Dad shouted—he then turned a venomous stare to Hamsterviel. Jumba stood behind him, his weapon aimed at the psychotic doctor.

Hamsterviel laughed. "You're too late 626!" He screamed. "You cannot stop me this time!" His eyes then found Jumba. "AH! Jumba!" He said spreading his arms as if to embrace the room. "As a fellow student of science, I invite you to be my guest of honor as my genius plan comes full circle. Now watch as the power of the legendary 626 is _finally_ undone by my _supreme_ creation!"

I smiled a little to myself. Hamsterviel had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"Experiment O," Hamsterviel said. "DESTROY HIM!"

My Dad's eye went wide and he readied for the incoming attack. Raising his guns, he growled and waited for Experiment O to make his move.

Again, nothing happened. Experiment O didn't move, didn't even seem to hear Hamsterviel's orders. He just stood there in that same spot. You would have thought he was a statue if he hadn't still been breathing through his mouth. That was it. The moment had passed. I smiled as my dad went for Hamsterviel.

He opened fire. The air was alight with green plasma. Unfortunately none of them made contact. The thing in the cloak had swept Hamsterviel out of the way so fast it were as if he could see it coming. Turning around, the thing glared at my father from the darkness of his hood before he took of like a shot. He zigzagged back and forth to avoid my dad's blasts, moving at a speed so fast I had to keep from blinking in order to fallow his progress. My father had just barely managed a backwards leap into the air as the thing's boot came whirling around in a sweeping kick.

My Dad growled and extended his other arms.

The thing stood at its fullest height and drew what looked like a long, black sword from a sheath hidden behind his cape. He flipped a switch and a white light—like a laser—blazed around the sword's edge, casting dark shadows around the chamber.

"I have waited a long time for this rematch," the thing hissed and rushed at my dad.

As they fought, Jumba ran to the family. Lilo had already managed to climb to her feet and was cheering for my dad, her bright face dripping red from the deep gashes across her forehead.

"Yeah, get 'em Stitch!" Lilo cheered.

My eyes darted around the room. Hamsterviel was nowhere to be found—neither was Elvis for that matter. A wave of bitter disappointment hit me. I let him get away again...he must have taken off shortly after our father arrived. But no matter, I had more important things to deal with for the moment. In all of the commotion everyone was too distracted to see me make my way to Experiment O. I stood before him and placed my paws on his face and lifted his head. His eyes were nothing but pools of darkness devoid of emotion. I filled my mandate as an Evil Genius to check to see if my creation was working properly. I placed my fingers on his neck.

_Alright, his pulse is strong, _I thought. Lifting my claw, I held it before his face and moved it back and forth.

For the first time, he showed me that he wasn't just a hunk of living tissue. His face scrunched up and he looked at me as if I were something weird and foreign.

"O," I said, having already decided just to refer to him by "Oh" the last pat of his name. "Fallow my fingers."

He gave me that, _what the hell? _Look again, before his eyes obediently fallowed my claw. I couldn't help but wonder if I saw the faintest glint of familiarity in his eyes. _Maybe...maybe he recognizes me?_

I turned around. Jumba was already leading the family towards the exit, my father was still locked in combat with that thing. I cringed as my dad flung it into the wall, it's body left a wide dent and then it toppled to the floor. Watching this, I suddenly felt very protective of my creation. I had to get him out of here. His destructive programming would only kick in a this early stage if he was threatened.

"Alright," I said. "You seem fine." I placed my hands on his shoulders and tried to lead him to the exit. "Come on, I'm going to get you out of here--"

"SIMON!"

It was my Dad's voice. I turned around and found myself eclipsed in that thing's shadow.

"Poetic," he said, "But you're not going anywhere." Two great yellow eyes stared down at me from that big darkness. They were filled with an obsessive hatred, the kind that festers over years and years of silent malice. This thing, whatever it was, knew me, and had waited for the chance to kill me for a very long time. It was something I could understand. It was exactly how I felt about Elvis. Thinking about my brother only strengthened my resolve to live—at least long enough to slaughter him.

Experiment O stood behind me, innocently staring up at this stranger. He couldn't understand the danger, not until he learned enough to recognize it. My precious creation...if I was going to die, at least he—the amazing life I had made out of nothing—would survive. The thing raised his plasma cannon, moments from pulling the trigger. My father then appeared out of nowhere and leaped onto its back, his small but powerful arms driving him to the floor.

"Run Simon!" My father cried. The thing beneath him quivered once, and was still.

I tried to back away but a pair of thick arms wrapped around my neck. I gagged and was lifted off my feet. Experiment O had crept up from behind and now had me in a death grip. My head swam. If he squeezed any tighter and he would snap my neck. I couldn't struggle. At first I thought he was trying to kill me but then I felt him trembling. Then I understood. He was scared. Only moments in this new world, full of things he didn't understand, and this bloodshed was the first thing he saw. Hamsterviel couldn't know. Experiment O was like a child. Despite his awesome powers his primary function was to learn and adapt. The only thing he knew now, the first thing he ever felt, was terror. And now he instinctively clung to me for dear life, thinking I could protect him. What happened next, well, might have been inevitable. Unfortunately my father didn't see this reaction for what it was. All he saw was a white brute strangling his youngest son, and he reacted pretty how you would expect a parent to.

He growled and lunged from the thing's back, if I could have stopped it I would have. His small blue fist smashed itself into Experiment O's face. My creation's arms were ripped away and he was sent hurtling across the room. It looked like my dad had put everything he could into that punch.

No...I had to stop him.

"Dad..." I gasped, clutching at my throat.

"Simon." Warm gentle hands were placed on my shoulder. I looked up. It was Lilo, she had come back for me. "Come on, we gotta go," she started leading me towards the exit.

"No...wait." I tried to say, but it came out as a quiet wheeze.

We were near the exit, Jumba was waiting for us. He had my guns and my wrist band which I took gratefully.

"We must move, Hamsterviel has detonated the self-destruct," he tried to pick me up but I tore away from and ran for my father.

"No! Stop!" I wheezed. "Dad don't."

My father wasn't listening. He had picked off Experiment O as an easy opponent and seemed to not take him seriously. In this short time, Experiment O had learned the basics of combat by watching my father, but his raw strength was no match for my father's experience. Suddenly Jumba's massive hands scooped me off the floor and were carrying me away. I tried to fight but it was like being smothered by two big hams. As I watched, my dad leap-frogged over O as he took a swing and hit nothing but air. In one final, decisive move, my Dad grabbed O's back spines and threw him into the table. The steel table's mechanism that kept it hovering shorted out and exploded, burying Experiment O in fire and shrapnel.

"Whoo! Go Dad!" Aaron cheered from down the corridor. _Fool_, I thought. Aaron couldn't understand. Dad didn't stand a chance. In fact, If they knew what I knew, they would think he was already dead.

We were moving further and further away from the main chamber down a long passageway. I could still see into the room. My father approached the heap of burning metal, looking smug and completely sure of himself. He looked down the corridor at us and waved. That one second his attention wasn't on O cost him dearly. Experiment O's hand suddenly launched out of the flames and grabbed my dad around the neck. There was a blinding flash of light and my father's body flew across the room, screaming like shinning ball of white energy. He hit the floor and lay there motionless, his blue fur charred and blackened, completely out cold.

"Stitch!" Lilo tried to run but Jumba held her back.

I watched in shock as Experiment O rose into the air, his entire body burning with white fire. His eyes shone with a lethal radiance. It wasn't a normal glow, it were as if the same energy surrounding his body was pouring out of his eyes. The ship began to rumble. The lights above our heads shattered and burst as long winding cracks appeared in the walls. Somewhere above we could hear the screams of twisting metal, as if something monstrous were turning the ship inside out. The door to the main chamber broke down, the metal doors puckered up in the middle as if pulled towards a center of powerful gravity. We were sealed off. We wanted to go back for my father but there was no way into the room.

I was on the floor now with Lilo standing next to me; we had retreated further down the corridor to a fork that lead in opposite directions. My mind was still back with my father. Experiment O's burning white eyes pulsated in my head. I didn't want to think what might be happening in there, at this very moment. Still, the image of my Dad being torn apart molecule by molecule kept rearing its ugly head. Even more so I was astonished by how quickly Experiment O had grown in power. I was certain I had a thorough understanding of my creation's abilities but...for a split second. My confidence had been a little rattled...

"Look out!"

Aaron jumped forward and shoved Lilo and I down the other hallway just as the roof above our heads collapsed.

"Aaron! Jumba!" She reached out for them but it was no good. They both vanished behind a wall of warped plates and bent pipes. I don't even know what became of Nani and the others. I lost track of them immediately after my dad and Experiment O started fighting.

"The Ships falling apart!" I yelled. The ship suddenly lurched, as if confirming what I said. Somewhere below, the reactors were getting ready to burst. In a last effort, Hamsterviel was trying to finish us all off—the people who had been a thorn in his side for so long. We were in a desperate situation. Jumba and the others would be fine. Jumba and my dad were somehow able to reach Hamsterviel's flagship, so I deduced they must have a way back to the mainland. My thoughts lingered on my father. I couldn't know if Experiment O would kill him—carry out his programming and eliminate the threat. It was in his nature to overcome anything he was presented with, but I couldn't think of that now. I had to focus on the problem at hand. We needed a way out of here.

I pulled back my sleeve. _The Valkyrie isn't space-worthy yet' _I started typing commands into my keypad. _But it should do well enough to fly us out of here...now if I access the ship's terminal, I'll be able to control it remotely from here.'_

"Lilo," I said, "Don't worry, I'm going to us out of here. My ship is going to pick us up but we need to get to—"

"We need to get to the roof," she said.

I looked up from my computer. Lilo was already making her way down the corridor. She turned around.

"Come on Simon," she beckoned me to fallow her. "There's a lift down this way, we used it on the way in.

I stared at her receding back. "Wow...you're not a little girl anymore Lilo." I smiled little. "You'll probably end up rescuing me." And took off after her.

XXXX

The lift took us to an emergency hatch. The main power was down, only the reserves were engaged to keep the ship afloat for as long as possible, so we had to use the manual release. It took both of us to open the hatch, but after we managed to lift the hatch just a crack, the wind ripped it back and almost tore the access door from its hinges. Shielding my eyes, I kept my self as low as possible as I hopped onto the ship's sleek hull, my face practically mashed against the cold alloy. The wind was cold and pulled at my body, almost aching to throw me into the ocean an eternity away. The sun had just set, the blackness of space was above, beyond the planet, but the skies around were stained a deep orange and glowed red, right at the horizon, like an endless stream of blood. Lilo fallowed behind, only daring to stick her torso from the safety of the hatch. A few seconds on my computer told me the Valkyrie was its way, but not soon enough. I could feel the ship tremor beneath us, the reactors wouldn't last much longer. Soon Lilo and I would be taking an unexpected plunge into the sea.

From the looks of it, Hamsterviel had commandeered a large mining ship to lead his armada. It was long and glossy, its body wide and shaped like a blimp. This sort of craft would have a catwalk spanning along the edge of the ship in a series of raised levels, all the way down to the base, near the landing craft. But we couldn't get to it. The drop was too steep. If the wind didn't knock us off, the slightest bit of turbulence would send us toppling down and right past the walkway.

Teeth chattering, I looked into the distance. The island was a shadowed hunk of land in the distance, close enough I could reach out and hold its silhouette between my claws, but still painfully distant. I looked down at my computer. The Valkyrie had cleared the island's airspace. It's on-board computer was locked onto my signal. I did the best I could but I only had the ship running at half its full speed; any faster and it would short-out the engines. I kicked for not spending more time working on it.

"SIMON!" Lilo shrieked over the wind. "WHAT ABOUT STITCH!?"

I looked away from her, couldn't bear to face her. "He'll....He'll be fine!" I motioned for her to back down a little. "The ship will be here soon...we just need to sit tight!?

Lilo's eyes were suddenly wide with alarm. She screamed and pointed behind me.

"Clever Trog!" A rasping hiss screamed behind me. "To climb sssso HIGH!"

I whipped around. That thing—that thing that had kidnapped me, had been fighting my father, emerged from another hatch farther down the hull. But it was different some how. Its voice had changed. Before it had spoken with monotone rumbling, like maybe something made up. A thorough disguise. Now it sounded different. It was more like a maniacal hissing. A sound that sent a shiver down my body. It was smooth, like liquid silk.

I scanned the sky for my ship, desperation hoping to see the blazing blue force of it thrusters rocket through the clouds. But it was nowhere near us yet. Turning around I lunged for the hatch but something struck me in mid air and I was sent skidding along the hull, frantically trying grab hold of something.

"AHHHHHH!" Sparks flew as I dug my claws into the metal. I managed to flip onto my stomach and nervously climb to my knees. I cringed from the sudden pain in my arm. I looked down, there was large gash across the bicep that was seeping pink blood. The cut was long but shallow. I jumped up, I could hear that thing coming nearer. Leering, it stalked across the ship's hull, its long black cape whipping in the wind like a sheet hanging on a laundry-line. It had its shoulder hunched and its plasma cannon drawn. I was terrified, there was nowhere for me to run.

"You can't imagine how long I've waited for thissss, Trog!" It spat.

"What—what are you talking about!?" My hands reached behind me, fumbling to attach the halves of the experiment killing weapon. If I could just keep him talking, maybe I could surprise him.

"Two yearsss!" It said. "You've borrowed two years of life from me!"

My hands were shaking. Twice I almost dropped the guns barrel. My hear was racing. Almost there now. If I could just line up the parts, the magnetic arms I installed would reattach themselves and make the weapon whole. I heard a faint clicking sound. I smiled and ripped the rifle from its holster and pointed it at that thing. It was too close. I was about to pull the trigger when a strong gust blew and pulled back the thing's hood. My mouth fell open and I dropped the gun in shock.

I shook in fear as I gazed into a pair of burning yellow eyes I thought I would never see again, ones I couldn't see. I found my voice and managed to utter a single word that, in spite of the wind, would resonate across the universe...and my life:

"You..."

He smiled. "Hello, Ssssimon. I've misssed you."

His eyes were a blaze of yellow with thin black pupils. His skin was nothing but murky, olive-green scales, smooth and flawless. Patches of dark green were in lines on his thick eyes ridges and his bald head. Two long dripping fangs poked from his lip-less mouth. His mouth was a dark line that ran along his cheeks, like a long glasgow smile. His thin face was etched in a look of pure loathing. He had the frightening look of snake, of a predator. A forked tongue lashed about, tasting the frozen air. It was incredible, he was just as I remembered, he could have jumped out of a time machine. His body was long and thin, unnaturally humanoid—sickeningly skinny, is how I described him last time. Even what he wore looked looked the same, the black body suite, the utility belt, the boots, the sheath on his ankle, the belted cloak. I couldn't believe my eyes.

A long green tail slithered from behind his cape and enclosed itself around the rifle.

"Thatsss _mine_," he hissed, his bony, three fingered hand wrapping around the handle.

"No....no, it's not possible." Terrified, I backed away from him, my hand held out in front of my face, defying, disbelieving. "You're dead...I killed you." I hated how pathetic I sounded. "This...this can't be!" It was like a monster from my darkest nightmares made real. A frightful apparition that had managed to break into reality. "Acervus..." I never forgot his name...how could I?

"Yessss," he sneered. " It shall be an Acervus upon the land, and all it touches shall wither and _die_." He smiled sadistically. "Forgive me, a very _old_ proverb from my home." His smiled vanished and was replaced with a look of rabid hunger. "Two yearsss. Two years I waited. I took my eyes off you for a second. I would deride myself for underestimating you, but I didn't. I studied you and your speciesss for months. But, alas, my pride made me arrogant." He narrowed his eyes. "You killed me when my back was turned. You fight with no honor."

The wind roared around the ship, the last threads of sunlight still bleeding across the horizon. The craft suddenly gave a violent lurch as a large explosion ripped through the bow. Acervus crouched down and rammed his claws into the steel, never taking his eyes from me. Lilo screamed and fell down the hatch. The ship swerved into a brief nose dive before it finally leveled off. Standing, Acervus drew his long black sword.

"Defend yourself, Sssimon," he said with disdain.

He dropped the sword. It landed in front of me, hitting the alloy with a loud clang. Starring down at the weapon, I could feel my stomach tightening.

"You don't live with honor," Acervus reached up and removed the large 'H' clasp. His cloak fluttered for a moment before being whisked away into the sky, lost to eternity. "But you can at leassst die with it."

I knew I had no choice. Tentatively I reached out for the sword. My paw closed around its handle, gently lifting it from the hull. I could feel its heft, the power of this lethal weapon, the precision, the mastery. I could understand why an assassin would choose such a weapon. Even I could respect it.

Acervus waited for me to stand, but no longer. The instant I managed to struggle to my feet through the prevailing winds, Acervus struck. His hand lashed out like a snake about to deliver a poisonous bite. In the blink of an eye, the sword was knocked from my hand and Acervus had his tail constricted around my neck. I gasped as I was lifted into the air. His tail felt a thick steel cable trying to strangle.

"Now sssuffer," long trails of spit dangled from his teeth. His tail slammed me into the ship. I just had enough time to cry out before I was lifted up and brought back down. Mercilessly he repeated this ritual again, and again, and again. Finally, after the fifteenth time, his tail whipped like an elastic and hurled me across the structure.

I grunted and bounced a good twenty feed before I finally skidded to a halt, crashing onto my stomach with a pained gasp. Groggily, I tried to push myself to my knees, only to collapse from the effort. I could feel warm blood dripping from my mouth and ears, collecting in small pool which ran down the side of the ship in thin treads. The pain was bright and throbbing, and all over my body. I couldn't help but laugh a little. It had a been a long time since I had received a beating like this—I guess the body never really gets used to it.

I could hear the heavy thuds of his boots echoing as he walked.

Thud...thud...thud....thud...thud...thud.

They got louder and louder.

I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Each time I came to, the steps were closer. All too soon, Acervus edged his boot under my shoulder and turned me onto on my back, forcing me to look into his eyes.

He looked down at me without pity, without emotion...at least in his face. His eyes were still alive with that same obsessive hatred. I could tell he was relishing every ounce of exquisite agony he squeezed out of me...and I had figured out why. He told me himself, two years ago, that no one ever escaped him. Acervus always got his man. But I did...and now he was back for the target that had gotten away. It was something primal for him, more than just pride. He needed to kill me.

The sun's light had finally died. All was cast in darkness. Acervus's bright yellows eyes were like lanterns against the night sky. Around us massive columns of smoke had begun to seep from the ship, billowing into the clouds like dark, foggy sentries.

Reaching down, his tail began to coil around my throat.

"Acervus has come to kisss you goodbye," His mouth began to open, exposing a mouth of long, needle teeth. His fangs oozed what I'm sure was a lethal venom. My body went limp as he tightened his grip, my brain finally starting to succumb to starvation. "I have acquired a taste for Trog flesh, since I ate 625," he drew his knife, a long, deadly looking weapon required when more _precision_ was needed. The tip of blood parted my fur, coming to a stop between my pectorals. "You are remarkable creaturesss," he said, eyes glowing. "I think I'll eat your heart."

_Swish!_

_Thud!_

Acervus stared down at the blackened stump in amazement. Where there had once been a tail, there was now only a cauterized stub, still smoking and giving off the acrid stink of burning scales. My father stood before me, eyes closed, Acervus's sword clutched tightly in his paw. Prying his dead tail from around my neck, I sucked in lung fulls of frigid air, gagging and coughing as I held my neck.

My father turned around and glared up at Acervus, his eyes burning with his own hatred for the thing that murdered Presley.

"Keep your hands off my son," he said, raising the sword.

A deep rumbling, like a Lion's growl, sounded in the pits of Acervus's chest.

"Don't interfere, 626," Acervus warned, drawing his plasma rifle. "The boy is mine."

"Over my dead body," my father growled.

"If you insisssst."

As I watched, Acervus fired. Bright blue plasma burst from the gun's barrel. My dad flipped and dodged the blast, on the last flip, he wavered slightly on his feet and Acervus dove for that split-second in his break. The gun fired and plasma exploded at my dad's feet, sending him flying into the air. Acervus rushed forward, firing blast after blast as my father still flew in mid air. Igniting the sword, Dad swung its blazing white blade and cut through the plasma. Again he faltered and had to make another desperate jump to evade further attack.

I frowned. My dad was moving slower than usual. I could still see it, even in the dark, his fur was blackened and charred from Experiment O's attack. Dad was severally injured, and much, much weaker. I couldn't wait any longer. I had to get us out of here. I looked down at my wristband. There was crack down the screen but it was still functional. Typing, I ordered the Valkyrie to make a Milli-second jump to Hyperspace, and prayed the engines could take it. After the hyper-drive powered up, the Valkyrie would be here in seconds.

"Stitch!" Lilo was back at the hatch, calling out to my dad. He was on his arm and knees, panting from exhaustion. Crawling forward, his shaking had reached out for the sword. Acervus gave out a snake-like hiss, and kicked the sword away where it vanished over the edge. My dad seized his chest, on the verge of hyperventilating. I could see it now...pink blood. Oozing from the corner of his mouth. _My god_...what had Experiment O done to him?

Acervus delighted in the thrill of the kill, but even more to battle before. He lived for survival and war. Thin lines of purple blood dripped from his slit-like nostrils. His tongue quivered from his mouth, he could 626's scent on the air. The sweat, the blood—no, this is the heart he wanted to eat. It was a tradition in his world to consume the heart of a fallen warrior to gain their powers. A silly tradition to the rest of the galaxy, but something he fervently believed in. And regardless of tradition, he couldn't deny the cannibalistic pleasure of it.

Honoring his fallen enemy, Acervus aimed his rifle, ready to finally put an end to the great 626.

"You failed," Acervus said. "Now die."

"NO! STITCH!" Lilo came from nowhere. Before I could stop her, before I even knew what was happening, Lilo was running across the hull, her long black hair whipping in the wind, and was launching herself at Acervus—who was even more surprised than any of us. She threw her entire weight on him. Acervus toppled off his feet and slid down the ship's sleek surface. The last thing I heard from him was a great cry of rage as he disappeared into the darkness below.

Jumping up, I limped over to Lilo who was now crawling on her belly to get to Dad.

"Stitch?" Lilo's hand hesitated.

"No, Lilo," my dad waved her hand away. "Go...leave me."

Lilo shook her hand and collected dad in her arms. "Nobody gets left behind..."

"Or forgotten," It came out of my mouth before I could stop it. I looked away, feeling a little embarrassed.

A load roar suddenly tore through the night and the Valkyrie appeared in a blast of blue shock waves. It hovered above us for a moment, its thrusters droning like massive turbines. _It's about fucking time_, I though. I typed in some commands and the ship lowered itself. The door to the cock pit slid open. The wind swirled around us in a vortex as the settled. With some help, I lifted my dad onto one of the wings.

"Alright! Get in!" I Shouted over the hum of the thrusters.

Grabbing my dad, Lilo jumped into the cock-pit and held out her hand for me. I seized it and she pulled me onto the wing. As I punched in a few more instruction on my wrist band, the ship began to rise—

"No!"

I looked down and my heart jumped. Acervus was racing towards us.

"Lilo!" I yelled. "Pull back on the—"

I was suddenly yanked off my feet as Acervus's bony fist grabbed onto my trench coat.

"NO!" Acervus roared. "NO YOU'LL NOT ESCAPE!"

I screamed and held on to the edge of the cockpit. Lilo yanked my collar and desperately tried to heave me into the ship, but Acervus was too strong for her.

I could feel my claws slipping from the edge. The Valkyrie flew higher and higher, bringing us closer to the icy cold of the atmosphere. With one last lunge, Acervus pulled himself onto the wing. We were nose to nose, so close I could smell the stink of his breath.

"Your timesss up Sssimon," he raised his claws. "It's been up for two...years."

Two things happened next, and both at the same time. At the exact moment Acervus brought down his claws, my Father threw himself onto the edge of the cockpit and backhanded Acervus. There was sickening crunching sound as the bones in snake-alien's face imploded. He screamed with rage as blood poured down in torrents from his shattered skull. Hissing and spitting from his broken jaw, Acervus blindly swung with his claw. Unfortunately, this was just as my father was pulling me into the cockpit, and I happened to look up at the wrong time.

The last thing I saw before the right of my world went dark, was Acervus's curved black talon...

I cried in agony as Acervus gouged open my right eye. With one final swing, Acervus lost his balance and slipped from the wing. My Dad stared over the side of the Valkyrie, istening to him scream all the way down. Rocking back and forth, I whimpered in Lilo's lap, my hands pressed tightly against my mangled eye. Tears and fluids ran down my face as blood spurted between my fingers. I had never felt such intense agony before. My eye throbbed with unbelievable pain. I knew I would be blind in that eye for the rest of my life...I could replace it with a clone eye but I doubted I would have that kind of spare time for...a while.

Lilo was petting my head, but my Dad gently nudged her aside. With a look of deep sadness, dad grasped my hands and pulled them away from my face. I tried to fight but he overpowered me. Leaning forward, he stuck out his tongue and began licking my gouged eye. It was the ultimate sign of affection for my species, licking another's wounds. Soon the bleeding stopped and all that was left was the spiking pain. My Dad piloted the Valkyrie the rest of the way. It wasn't long before Jumba contacted us through the ship's computer. Everyone had made it back in one piece—and even better—Elvis was somewhere on the island. Hamsterviel's forces were retreating from the planet. It would seem Experiment O had gone ballistic and began ripping through his ships shortly after his escape. When I asked where Experiment O was, Jumba shrugged and said he didn't know. He was loose. A powerful, destructive force, had been unleashed on this planet, and If we didn't stop it...Experiment would engage his ultimate function and destroy the earth. I knew what had to be done...I would have to kill him, annihilate what I had created and unwittingly released on this poor, pitiful world. I had it worked out in my head. First, I would find a way to eliminate the perfect genetic experiment, crafted by science. And then, I would kill Elvis...

Behind us, Hamsterviel's flagship plummeted into the ocean, a flaming supernova of death. The hull glowed like a bonfire before it was finally snuffed out by the sea, sinking deep to forever rot at the bottom of our deepest waters. I couldn't know what effect all this would have on the world...Experiment O? Hamsterviel's attack. I wasn't sure what I was going to do next—but I had three days to figure it out.


End file.
